


The Sound of One Hand Clapping

by Thrace Addicted (Amidala_Thrace)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amidala_Thrace/pseuds/Thrace%20Addicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara sustains severe burns on her hands after a Raptor crash, placing her in complete dependence on the one person in front of whom she's always tried to be strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a character study of Kara, and originally posted in the month of May 2008. Spoilers through S3's "Crossroads, Part 2." For full author's notes, please [click here](http://community.livejournal.com/jedionpaper/13919.html).

When she opens her eyes, someone is screaming.

Kara doesn't know where she is and she wants to tell them to shut the frak up, because her hands feel like they're on fire and maybe if things can just _slow down_ for _one frakking second_ she'll be okay.

She looks down.

Her hands _are_ on fire.

And all at once she understands that she is the one screaming.

Simultaneously, she slips back into unconsciousness.

***

Her eyes snap open. The smell of something sizzling fills the air.

Where is she? What happened?

Again it hits her, and the memories replay like a gun camera filmstrip. She was doing recon on the Temple of Jupiter. A fleet of toasters appeared out of nowhere – _nowhere_ – and ambushed her. Raptors have only light armament, and she couldn't have fought back anyway, not even if she'd had the presence of mind to try. Then again, it's difficult to have the presence of mind to do _anything_ when your hands are molded to the dead control panel and it's on fire.

Her hands.

_Frak_.

Kara bites her lip and forces herself to look down.

Two chunks of flesh that are only vaguely reminiscent of human body parts still cling to the panel, one around the control stick and the other around the comm switch. She tries to lift a finger, just one infinitesimal movement of her pinky, and is rewarded with a shooting, searing pain. She bites her lip again, bites until she tastes blood, and still the pain does not dissipate.

"_Frak!_"

She can see the Raptor's survival kit, right by her feet. It will have disinfectant, bandages, and most importantly morpha. Oh gods, morpha. What she wouldn't give for that right now. What she wouldn't give to be able to fall asleep, lapse mercifully into unconsciousness again. But now she's awake and all she can think of is getting to that kit and getting to it as quickly as possible.

Kara bats the bag with her foot. It doesn't budge. Of course, all survival kits are attached to all Raptors, to make sure they don't bounce around during flight. Of course, if a pilot had use of their hands there wouldn't be a problem.

She tries to lift a finger again. Fails. The pain is worse this time and tears spring unwillingly to her eyes. She hates herself for that. _Gods, Starbuck, you're a sissy. Remember when you found the Raider on that downed moon? You walked half a godsdamned mile on a busted frakking knee. You can do better._

The tears trickle down her cheeks, unbidden. The pain continues, unbidden. Nausea begins to prickle her throat.

And then, footsteps crunch outside.

"_Frakfrakfrak_," Kara mutters. Her only option is a bluff, and that's really no option at all. "I'm warning you, I'm frakking armed!" Even the threat comes out as a whimper. Disgusting. "Come closer and I'll blow your frakking brains out!"

"Kara! _Don't shoot!_"

Relief courses through her for the first time since the crash when she hears Lee's voice. Relief, and not a little embarrassment. She hates for him to see her when she's not in total control. What'll he think now that she can't even take her frakking hands off the panel?

"Kara?" Lee peers into the cockpit, apparently fully expecting a gun to be trained on him. Spotting none, he hurries to her and kisses the top of her head in relief. "Godsdamnit, Kara, I thought you were –"

"Takes more than a coupla toasters to off me," Kara says thickly. It helps not to move her lips so much.

"Your _hands_." He sounds stricken now, gently brushing his own fingers down her arms and stopping just short of her wrists. "Okay. Let's get those taken care of."

Lee rummages in the survival kit and comes up with a syringe of morpha. He prepares it quickly and rolls up her sleeve; she's in so much pain already that she doesn't feel the needle going in. She knows what's coming next but pretends she doesn't. It's easier that way.

"We've got to get your hands off the control panel." Funny how he states every step as something _they_ have to do, rather than the actual burden that falls on her shoulders. Trust Lee, the incurable romantic. "I think I can rewire it, but I'd obviously prefer not to attempt that while you're still attached to it."

"No, really?" Kara mutters under her breath and Lee smiles, evidently pleased to see that her sense of humour remains intact.

"Do you want my help?"

"No." She says it immediately and firmly. Peeling her burned fingers back will be bad enough without him touching them as well, and the morpha should kick in soon anyway.

He looks for a moment like he wants to argue with her, insist that she _does_ need his help, but backs off. Kara knows it's like taking a bandage off a rugrat. You've got to be quick and sure about it and you've got to get it over with before you have much time to think. You've got to make up your mind and just _do_ it.

So she does. Counts to three in her head, silently mouthing the words, and then just does it.

Her hands burn once more. The nausea asserts itself and suddenly it's all she can think about. Suddenly she's bent over, retching onto the floor. A part of her still wonders, stupidly, what Lee will think. He's seen her sick off the effects of too much ambrosia and too little food, but she could always laugh that off even as she was running for the head. This is different. This time she is genuinely ill. Equal parts sick and petrified.

And because Lee is Lee, he doesn't hesitate.

He's at her side in a moment – not complicated in the small Raptor – and brushing back her hair, murmuring indecipherable words of comfort, resting a hand on her back and massaging softly.

"Sorry," Kara whispers when she can breathe again. Why she is apologizing, she cannot say.

Lee chuckles. "Kara, you think I haven't seen someone get sick before? Come on. Besides, algae looks the same coming up as it does going in, in case you hadn't noticed."

The mess sits on the floor and she has to admit, he's right. But she doesn't want to think about that right now.

"Don't say that. Please," she begs. "Not unless you want the rest of my lunch to decorate your flight suit."

In answer he circles his hands around to her front and props her gently back on her chair. She leans her head back, feeling a gentle drowsiness steal over her – the morpha, finally – and Lee's kiss on her lips.

"Lee?" Kara mumbles.

"You have to stay awake," he says firmly. Kisses her again. "I'm going to start rewiring this panel and I want you to tell me … I want you to tell me what you miss most about Caprica."

That gets her attention, even despite the high that's making her eyelashes feel like weights. "What?"

"You heard me." Lee pats her shoulder once and starts fiddling with the ruined panel. "What do you miss most about Caprica? Could be anything."

Kara says the first thing that comes into her head. "My wall. The wall of my apartment." Maybe now she's played his stupid game, he'll let her sleep.

"Why do you miss your wall?"

_Damn_. "_I_ don't know, Lee. I guess … I guess it was fun to paint on. Had so much room. I left it bare, didn't have any furniture there or anything. When I was coming off a high I'd … I'd just take my paints and I'd draw whatever I felt like and … it helped me to forget. I wrote on it once. Took this black poster paint and wrote a poem. Then I passed out and couldn't remember how it got there."

Her words are slurring worse than when she's drunk, but he smiles. "I didn't know you wrote poetry."

"Don't. Just one. Wrote it a few months before …" Kara swallows. "A few months before Zak died."

That sobers Lee quickly. He turns from where he's trying to wind two wires around each other. "About the accident?"

They still call it the accident, even though she knows it was her fault.

"No. Just about …" Her eyes close, then snap open again when he touches her cheek. "About him. Watched him one night, we'd drunk way too much and he passed out next to me and I couldn't sleep, so I just wrote something. Wasn't any good or anything, but I must've liked it because I painted it on my wall later."

Lee looks contemplative. "Would you ever show me?"

Kara laughs. "Gods, Lee, I don't still _have_ it. I don't think I do, anyway. It might be in one of my old notebooks. I can't remember."

She closes her eyes for one second, or what she thinks is one second until they open again and she realizes Lee is shaking her.

"Kara, you _can't sleep_. I'm sorry, but you can't."

"I _didn't!_" The protest comes out as an angry retort.

"I've been shaking you for five minutes." He makes her sit forward on her chair.

"Morpha makes me sleepy," Kara mumbles, her head slumping forward.

Lee brushes her hair back from her face. "I know. I'm sorry. But if you've got a concussion Doc Cottle will have my head for letting you doze off. You have to stay with me, Kara."

"Stop apologizing," she mutters. "'S not your fault."

"Sor-" he starts to say, then breaks off. She'd smack him if she could. If it wouldn't hurt so much.

Lee returns to the control panel. Kara discovers she _has_ to stay awake, if only to keep from falling off her chair. She doesn't want to think about landing on her hands in such an instance. She doesn't want to admit she's scared of that happening. Scared of the pain.

"Ask me one question," he says, his back turned. Obviously he's still trying to make sure she doesn't doze off. His voice sounds as though it's coming from underwater. "One question about anything you want."

"Don't know …" Kara trails off as she tries to hold on to the thoughts slipping through her brain. "I, um … why did you come? Why didn't you send Dee or Racetrack or somebody?"

"I asked Dee." Lee's back is still turned – he's fiddling with one of the control panel's knobs – but she doesn't miss the anger that slips into his tone. "She wouldn't. Not even after I made it a direct order."

"_What?_" That's a shock. Anastasia Dualla is nothing if not obedient.

"She holds a grudge, Kara. Oh, she tried to justify it by saying we were all needed to hold the defensive perimeter, when in fact there were almost too many of us to maintain proper cover." He snorts bitterly. "The truth is she doesn't want to risk her life for the woman who cost her a chance at marrying her hero, the great Apollo." Lee says that derisively, sarcastically. "I could see it in her eyes."

"But that was a year ago."

"Like I said, she holds a grudge."

"I thought you told her when you broke up with her that it didn't have anything to do with me," Kara says, nearly toppling off the chair again. She wishes she could reposition herself, but without her hands, she's helpless.

"I did." Lee toggles a switch and is rewarded with an arcing spark that makes him jump backwards. "_Frak_."

She attempts a smirk. "Singed eyebrows look good on you, you know."

"Very funny," he mutters. "The godsdamned guidance systems are shot. If I do get this bird in the air I'm going to be flying it blind."

"Cylons got me pretty good," Kara acknowledges, and catches herself for a third time. "How, um … how long do you think it'll take to fix it?"

"I still have to rewire the comm and somehow persuade the control stick to communicate with the engines," Lee sighs. "And I figure you've got another hour or so before that morpha wears off and you start trying to chew off your hands again. If I don't get it fixed before then, we walk."

She decides not to think about walking all the way back to the command post with her hands on fire and her stomach churning.

He turns back to the control panel. Toggles more switches. This time it's Kara who initiates the conversation.

"What did you tell Dee? Exactly?"

She feels sure that if he was facing her, one eyebrow would be raised. "Why is that so important?"

It isn't derisive, it's just a question.

It gets an honest answer. "I dunno. Just is."

And because he's Lee and because he loves her, he tells her immediately and without reservation. "Only that I didn't think it was fair to mislead her. You were gone, but … when I went to her I knew I'd only ever be using her as a replacement for you and that if you ever walked back into my life, I wouldn't have any self-control left."

"That sounds really frakking weird coming from you."

"Yeah," Lee acknowledges. "That's us, though."

Kara nods. "That's us."

"Besides, I didn't want to be another Billy."

That confuses her and she knows it isn't just the morpha. "What happened there?"

This time he glances back. "Sure you're not too high? It's complicated."

Again Kara curses her inability to smack him. She has a feeling she's going to be doing that for awhile. "Frak you," she snaps with as much venom as she can manage.

Lee snickers in spite of himself, then abruptly sighs. "Dee likes to pretend she's so high and mighty for surviving our breakup. But she's a frakking hypocrite. She did the same thing to Billy a month before we started seeing each other. Only difference is, you and I'd been friends, and, well …"

"We were frak buddies, you can say it," she sighs with a mental eyeroll. Sometimes he can still be such a prude.

"Well. Yeah." There's a hot blush creeping up his cheeks and she'd laugh aloud if it wouldn't hurt so much. "But Dee … as soon as she thought she had a shot at someone better – me – she left Billy without even explaining why. Treated me like some kind of prize she'd won, especially in front of him. Did you know he proposed to her the night of the hostage-taking on Cloud Nine?"

"No. Frak. What? No! Gods!" Kara is at turns cursing her fuzzy-headedness and cursing her shipmates for not keeping her up to date on all the gossip.

"Yeah." Lee's fiddling with the control panel again. "Forget who told me later. I think it might've been Helo."

"He always did have my best interests at heart."

Lee snickers again. She wonders if she can get away with closing her eyes for just a moment, just a tiny moment, just until the morpha starts wearing off. She knows it will soon.

No such luck. No sooner has she slid back in her chair just a little and leaned her head against its back and slumped gratefully, exhaustedly, every bit of her crying out for rest, when she feels his kiss on her lips and his hands snaking around in back of her to prop her up again.

"You know, sometimes I think you really do have eyes in the back of your head," she mumbles sleepily.

Lee kisses her again, just because. And again, for a reason she doesn't bother trying to figure out. "All CAGs have eyes surgically implanted in the backs of their heads, didn't you know?" he whispers against her mouth. "One of the perks of our job description."

The un-morpha'd Kara would come up with some sort of smart retort, likely involving groping privileges and the Top Gun, but all she can manage under the influence is, "You have soot on your lip."

"That's because _you_ have soot on _your_ lip." His hand comes up and he's caressing her cheek, brushing his fingers across her mouth, and she aches to touch him and frak, this is just putting her to sleep more.

She settles for kissing his fingers, one by one.

He lets her for a moment, then brushes her hair back and props her up. Her stomach reels, but then Lee is speaking and as long as she focuses on his words she's okay. "I've got two more circuits to reset and then, hopefully, this frakking crate will fly again. You have to do your part and stay awake, Kara. Can you do that for me?"

Kara's rapidly losing the battle and she knows it. Her hands are tingling again, a tingle she hasn't noticed since the crash. "When I get back I'm going to break ship's record for napping."

His hand is at her cheek again, unexpectedly tender. "Hell, I'll nap with you. But right now we both have a job to do."

"Did you just proposition me, Apollo?" she asks as he turns back to the control panel.

Kara didn't know Lee's ears could go quite that red. "Get your hearing checked. I said _nap_, not _frak_."

"Passes for the same thing on _Galactica_ these days," she quips. Resolutely ignores the growing pain in her hands.

"Oh it does, does it?" He fiddles with some wires for what seems like an inordinately long time. "If I do proposition you, will you stay awake?"

She pretends to ponder the question. "Maaaaaybe. I could have a hot date, you know."

Kara doesn't miss the way he tenses. "You wish," Lee says stiffly.

"Oh, gee, thanks," she replies sarcastically, and successfully resists the urge to kick him in the ass. (It would knock her off balance, besides.) "Kidding, Apollo, kidding. If you proposition me, I'll stay awake."

"It's a deal. You don't close your eyes, not once, and you've earned yourself one frak." He twists two final wires together. "That is, if this Raptor doesn't blow us back to Caprica first."

"If I make small talk and don't scream when this morpha wears off, do I earn myself two fraks?" Kara asks cheerfully.

Lee's rolling his eyes, she knows that without even looking at him. "Brat."

"Insults will avail you not, Apollo. Do I?"

Now he's smiling. "You drive a hard bargain, Starbuck."

She turns his line back on him. "You wish."

"Tell you what, if the ship doesn't explode, I'll make it three." He runs his fingers nervously through his hair and only succeeds in making it point to every corner of the compass.

Kara, victorious, grins. "It's a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain is worse than the busted knee, worse than any illness, worse even than the broken fingers she endured from her mother. She hadn't thought any injury could be worse than her knee. She'd been wrong.

She doesn't keep her part of the bargain. Not about the sleeping – Kara somehow doubts Lee would've allowed her to sleep – but about the small talk and the screaming. She doesn't yell outright, since her dignity would never allow that, but by the time the Raptor's been in the air for five minutes, Kara's in agony. The pain is worse than the busted knee, worse than any illness, worse even than the broken fingers she endured from her mother. She hadn't thought any injury could be worse than her knee. She'd been wrong.

The Raptor jolts like a recalcitrant baby bird, Lee keeping it flying through a combination of raw skill and a succession of curses that would make a Gemenese dockhand blush. If she was more lucid, she would wonder where exactly he picked up his impressive vocabulary. But Kara's having enough trouble just keeping the remaining algae inside her stomach where it belongs. That and her hands appear to have caught on fire once again.

She can't help the small moan that escapes her lips.

Lee glances at her, concerned. "Still with me over there?"

Kara's eyes are screwed shut tightly. "Just tell me when … when it's over."

"We're just about to break atmosphere," he says reassuringly. "We're almost there, Kara."

She hates that he's coddling her, hates that she has to appear so weak. Hates herself for crashing and hates the Cylons for attacking her in the first place. The anger fills her for a moment, and for that moment she's able to forget the pain and the nausea. It's just a moment, but it's enough to let her go on without losing it completely.

Then it all comes screaming back, and she moans again and pretends not to notice that Lee's only keeping his eyes facing front to see where they're going and that there's a funny kind of glow out the window. His gaze keeps flicking to her and through her haze she tries to remember whether she's seen him look so frightened. She can't conjure a time. But then, that's probably just because she hasn't thought about it hard enough.

"Kara, hang on, just hang on," and his voice is tight and scared and next moment she must have blacked out, because they're now impossibly close to _Galactica_ where before they were just rising from the atmosphere. "Kara, come on, stay with me," and she measures time by what he says to her, how he encourages and cajoles and threatens her.

Next second the landing deck is right in front of them and Kara feels a jolt as the Raptor's front hits the deck. Landings have never made her sick before, and in fact she tends to laugh at any pilot who experiences that particular problem, but suddenly the algae _won't stay put_ and she's retching again, her lunch all over her flight suit.

The pain is at its most intense since the crash, and her tolerance instantly evaporates. She doesn't hear Lee telling her to stay awake, she doesn't hear the sickening crunch of the Raptor against the deck.

Kara leans back, and unconsciousness mercifully claims her.

***

She drags herself back awake through a haze of morpha, much more of the drug than Lee was able to give her back on the algae planet. Much more, indeed, than she can ever remember having. Kara feels like she's floating, like she might just lift off the bed and hover somewhere near the ceiling. Now she knows precisely where the term "high" came from.

A touch on her cheek. "Kara."

Lee.

Her eyelids flutter once, twice, and his face swims slowly into view.

"Hey," he says gently.

"Hey," she replies slowly. There seems to be a delay between the words leaving her brain and reaching her mouth. It's like talking with a mouthful of nut butter.

Kara waits for him to say more, but he doesn't. Just runs his fingers across her cheek again as though he's making sure she's really there.

She tries to decipher the emotions in his smile – love, longing, happiness, fear, relief – but suddenly she's too tired to care, and she falls asleep with his fingers on her cheek.

***

The next time Kara wakes, she's slightly more lucid and Lee is still sitting next to her bed.

"Gods." She blinks at him, at the stubble on his face, at the circles under his eyes. "Have you frakking moved?"

Lee smiles. "A couple of times. You know Cottle."

"You mean he's a controlling ass who treats sickbay like his own personal kingdom? My sentiments exactly."

"I heard that," grumbles a gruff voice from somewhere beyond the curtain.

"Of course you did, sir," Kara replies without missing a beat, and Lee abruptly looks like he's cracked a rib from trying not to laugh.

"He's kicked me out twice," he says after recovering himself. "I went to my bunk, gave a report to the admiral –"

"– and turned right around and came back here," she finishes.

"Yeah. Pretty much." Lee looks at his feet, apparently embarrassed at what he's about to say. "I needed to stay with you, Kara. When the Raptor landed and you passed out, I thought … well, you don't even want to know what I thought."

She can guess, but he's right, she doesn't want to know, and so to distract herself she tries to reposition herself in the bed. With her hands bandaged and suspended in some sort of metal frame at eye level, this proves difficult.

"_Frak_," she mutters.

"Hey," Lee says, suddenly concerned, "hey, you need some help?"

"_No_," Kara growls emphatically, still trying to shift despite the stiffness of the frame and the inability of her arms to give her any leverage. Finally she is forced to admit defeat. She slumps in the bed, an angry pout forming on her lips. "Fine. Yes."

He's on his feet in an instant, leaning over the bed. "It's fine, Kara, really. Whatever you need."

She blows a strand of hair off her forehead with a frustrated snort. "I _need_ my frakking hands back, Lee! I _hate_ this!"

"Well, you're going to have to get used to it," Cottle barks suddenly as he comes around the curtain, clipboard in hand. "Those are third-degree burns on your hands, Captain, and you'll be in here at least a week more in that frame to preserve range of motion and grounded for a month while the grafts heal. Your hands have to stay wrapped up until that time and you'll be fed, clothed and bathed by others so I recommend you swallow your godsdamned pride and let him help you. It'll be good practice."

Kara turns back to Lee and is outraged to see his small smirk. "Wipe that smile off your face, Adama," she commands. "I know what you're thinking."

"Oh?" Lee arches an eyebrow. "And what _am_ I thinking?"

"You're thinking about our bargain, and trying to figure out whether you'll get some in the shower," she accuses.

"I get the feeling I don't want to know," Cottle snickers as he prepares another injection of morpha.

To Kara's satisfaction, Lee's cheeks are colouring. "No, sir, you really don't," he stammers.

"Lee promised me that if I stayed awake in the Raptor and played his little small talk games to keep from dozing off, he'd frak me three times," Kara announces to the sickbay in general.

Cottle roars with laughter. "Whatever floats your boat, kids. You'll need this morpha when the major kills you with his bare hands." He gestures with the syringe to Lee, who is indeed looking quite murderous, before sliding it into her IV. Then he leaves, still chuckling.

"You know, it's lucky I'm in love with you," Lee mutters, taking her by the shoulders and carefully helping her to turn over.

"Oh, come on, Lee." Warmth shoots through her as he accidentally brushes her breast. (Or is it accidentally-on-purpose?) "I was just getting you back. You _were_ thinking about frakking in the shower, just admit it."

He kisses her lips. "That's one of the things I was thinking about."

"_Only_ one?"

She's still chuckling as she drifts off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has forgotten how simply annoying it is to be trapped in a bed, relying on morpha and tranquilizers to keep from ripping one or another of her body parts off. She's forgotten how condescending Cottle can be, and how unsympathetic he is to her complaints. But most of all, she's forgotten how difficult it is not to be in her Viper, running CAPs with her pilots and dispatching Raiders.

Sickbay life does not suit Kara.

She has forgotten how simply annoying it is to be trapped in a bed, relying on morpha and tranquilizers to keep from ripping one or another of her body parts off. She's forgotten how condescending Cottle can be, and how unsympathetic he is to her complaints. But most of all, she's forgotten how difficult it is not to be in her Viper, running CAPs with her pilots and dispatching Raiders. The Raptor crash has not chilled her enthusiasm for flight, not one bit.

Kara thinks she could handle all of that, however, if she just had the use of her hands. If she could just turn herself over in bed without assistance, if she could have some water and use the head and wash herself without someone having to help her. No other injury has been so infuriating, not even her broken knee or her busted fingers. With her knee, she could at least get out of bed and walk around on crutches. And with her fingers, she could handle things, albeit clumsily. But now her hands are wrecked, and the slightest touch through the bandages causes excruciating pain.

The only thing that keeps her even remotely sane is the continued visits from Lee.

He shows up as often as he can, usually dashing in from a CAP or from a stint in his office putting together flight schedules or sometimes early in the morning or late at night. She craves these visits as a person in a desert craves water – though, of course, she'd never let him know. She has more dignity than that. She doesn't want word to get out that she's dependent mentally as well as physically on someone else. Especially that _particular_ someone.

Three days into her imprisonment, as she's beginning to refer to the time in sickbay, her carefully-constructed façade cracks. Lee hurries in just as Cottle and his nurse, Ishay, are setting up the supplies to change her bandages. Unfortunately, he doesn't miss the naked fear on her face, the fear she's trying to conceal.

"Hey, hotshot," Kara greets him, disgusted by how her voice shakes a little. "Toast any Raiders today?"

After the requisite groaning at her lame pun, Lee shakes his head. "Nah, things are pretty quiet lately. I think maybe the Cylons are waiting until you get back. Air patrols aren't the same without you."

"Gods, what I wouldn't give just to _see_ the inside of a cockpit right now," she murmurs.

He pulls up a chair next to her bed and squeezes her shoulder. "Hey, you'll be back soon. Who else is going to keep the nuggets in line?"

Kara snorts. "Yeah, if Doctor Bedside ever springs me from this godsdamned torture chamber. I hate this, Lee."

"I know." He sighs, and looks warily towards the table of supplies where Cottle and Ishay are working. "What's going on?"

"Bandage change," Cottle answers before Kara can open her mouth. "Before, we did these when she was asleep, but we're backing off on the morpha dosage. Need to save some for the rest of you frak-ups who're going to hurt yourselves."

Lee bites his lip, a funny look passing over his features. "I, um, I can go, if it's not a good time. I've got flight schedules to prepare and –"

Kara is as surprised as everyone else in the room when she interrupts him.

"Lee. Wait."

It's just two words, but her face must tell a more explicit story because he smiles reassuringly, and sits back down from where he'd risen to a standing position. His hand comes back to rest on her shoulder. "It's okay. If you want me to stay, I'll stay."

She can feel herself flushing, but gods be damned if she isn't grateful he's there. Kara's been on edge all morning, ever since Cottle told her that the bandages were due for a change. She can barely stand to move her hands and, if she's to be honest with herself, would like nothing better than to avoid having them touched for the rest of her life.

The doctor snaps his scissors shut and Kara jumps like she's heard a gunshot. _Maybe Lee won't notice_ … but he's leaning towards her, concerned.

"Kara, are you okay?" he asks when Cottle's gone around the curtain to get a syringe of morpha.

"Fine," she replies stiffly. _I frakking hate myself and I wish I were anywhere else but here and I wish you didn't have to see me like this, but I'm fine._

"Really?" Lee arches an eyebrow.

_Damn you, Lee._ Kara aches to confide in him, aches for his comfort, but the part of her that is Starbuck prohibits it. The part of her that teases him and provokes him and makes him treat her like an equal puts its foot down and tells her that under no circumstances can she show weakness. This injury has stolen enough of her dignity and she needs to exert as much control as possible to keep the remaining shreds intact.

It's her turn to bite her lip as she looks into his eyes, fixed upon her with honest worry, and wonders what it would cost to accept his help.

And somehow, damn him again, he knows exactly what she can't say, because next second he's stood up and is wrapping her in as much of a hug as he can manage considering that her arms are stretched straight out in front of her in the frame. She wants to resist at first, wants to push him away with a show of typical pilot bravado, but then, in an instant, she realizes that she _can't_. The choice of whether or not to accept his help is not hers to make. Not at the moment.

But she chooses anyway. That sense of choice is important.

Perhaps Lee can sense the precise moment when Kara relaxes in his arms, for suddenly he's hugging her more tightly, and she's breathing in the scent that she recognizes as uniquely Lee, and suddenly, inexplicably, she feels … safe.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispers into her hair.

For once, she believes him.

And when the time comes to begin the procedure, it isn't the morpha that gets her through. The morpha only helps.

It's Lee who winces when she winces, every stab of pain appearing to affect him equally. It's Lee who rubs her shoulders, massages her back, does everything he can to help her forget. When the bandages finally come off and Kara feels the first touch of the gauze on her hands and has to bite down on her tongue to keep from screaming, it's Lee who pulls her to him and kisses her once, twice, again. It's Lee who brushes his fingers over her breasts – she is quite sure the motion is deliberate, this time – and sends liquid heat spiraling through her body.

After the change is done, it's Lee who takes her and holds her to his chest for a full minute, just hanging on, and then he leans down and carefully kisses the tear tracks off her cheeks.

It's Lee who rests his hand on her shoulder until she falls asleep.

***

After that day, Kara notices a subtle alteration in _Galactica_'s flight duty schedule. She isn't sure of the precise specifics – she knows only that whenever she is due for a bandage change, Lee is in sickbay at her side. She wonders at first what Cottle might think, what his nurse makes of the whole thing, but they both seem oblivious. Or perhaps, she thinks wryly one day, Cottle and Ishay are only _pretending_ to be oblivious. That would be just like them. But sometimes, when Lee swirls his fingers around her nipples and probes even lower, all in the name of distracting her from the pain, she is grateful for that metal frame. She is grateful that it blocks the vision of the medical professionals. She is grateful that he knows just when to bend and capture her lips in a kiss, short-circuiting the moan of arousal that was about to slip out. For that would be crossing a line.

Then one day, he's not there.

Cottle and the nurse come in and they prepare the supplies and Lee hasn't arrived, and although Kara wants to beg them to wait for just a few more minutes, she can't. Something stops her. Whether it's what Cottle would say ("_Wait?_ What do you think this place is, a frakking hotel?"), or whether it's the blow her reputation would suffer, something makes her glance towards the doorway one last time, hoping Lee might magically materialize, and then towards the doctor and nurse in grim acceptance of her fate.

Her memory is a little foggy after that.

Kara struggles back towards wakefulness sometime later. She keeps her eyes closed, wanting to drift right back off to sleep so that the throbbing in her hands and her mouth will be forgotten, and listens to the wash of voices around her.

"Took you long enough, flyboy," a gravelly tone growls. _Cottle._ "You missed the show today. We're done here."

"_Frak_," says another voice emphatically, a voice that is as familiar to her as the sound of her own breath. _Lee_, she thinks, and wants to reach out to him, but she's still in too much pain for that and besides, she has to be mindful of the decision she has made. "Frakking Tigh, I knew he'd pull something like this. He's got it in for her. I'm sorry, Doc, really."

"What the frak are you apologizing to me for?" Cottle snaps. "I'm not the one whose bandage change you missed."

A pause.

"Is she all right?"

Kara wonders why his voice is shaking slightly.

"She's resting. Listen, I don't know what the frak you do with her when you are here, and frankly I don't care either, but whatever it is, it saves me medications and it saves her pain. Before today we had her on half the dose of morpha that would normally be expected for this stage in the healing process. Which is remarkable in and of itself. But today's procedure, frak, she fought me tooth and nail. Bit her tongue so badly she was spitting blood for five minutes before the clotting agents worked. I finally had to sedate her just so we could get the bandages off."

Another pause, longer now. A chair scrapes across the floor and someone collapses into it.

"Frak me," Lee finally says, and he sounds oddly broken.

"Yeah, that's right, frak you." Cottle is as unsympathetic as ever. "Now I know you kids are in the habit of running yourselves into the ground, and gods know we've needed that sometimes as a fleet. But I'm gonna give you some free advice and I'd suggest you frakking listen. When it's a meeting about duty rosters, and when there's another officer who could do the job just as well as you could, and when there's someone waiting in sickbay for whom your visits are the highlight of every day, where do you think you ought to be?"

Silence.

"Exactly," the doctor continues, and there's a _flick_ as he lights one of his ever-present cigarettes. "She acts tough. But you're both deluding yourselves if you think she doesn't need you. And she's going to need you even more after I kick her outta this place. Take that however you will."

The curtain swishes, and his footsteps pad away.

There's a long sigh from Lee. Kara still doesn't open her eyes, not even when she feels the light brush of his fingers across her cheek. It's the morpha, and the soreness. She's exhausted. But she can't seem to sleep.

"Kara," he says softly.

She keeps her eyes closed. Thinks _No, Lee, this isn't going to work_.

"I love you, Kara Thrace." He brushes through her hair now. "And I don't care who frakking knows."

_I spent a year trying to get those words out of my head. A year, and a marriage, and a man's life._

I'm a godsdamned curse.

Lee traces the wetness streaking her cheeks.

"Lee," she mumbles, voice thick with morpha, "no."

He doesn't listen. He's kissing her now.

"Lee." Against his lips now, though she can't help kissing back just for a few moments. "Lee, 'm a curse. 'M sorry."

That stops him. His breath is cool on her cheek. "What the frak are you talking about? I'm the one who should be apologizing."

Her voice is dulled by the medications, but she needs to tell him of her decision before they get any more involved. "I'm a curse. First Zak. Then Sam. Get going while you still can."

"Kara, that's the morpha talking and you know it. What happened to Sam wasn't your fault." He looks completely befuddled.

More tears are trickling now; she can't stop them and she hates it. She loved Sam, but she loved Lee more, and Kara can't help but think that her husband's death from pneumonia on New Caprica was a judgment from the gods, a punishment for her lack of commitment when she took the marriage vows.

"Zak's death was," she stubbornly points out.

Lee's face clouds, and it isn't surprising – his little brother's death is an old pain, one with which he has pretended he came to terms a long time ago. Kara knows better. She knows better because she pretends the same thing.

"Kara, I forgive you," he finally replies. "So does my father. You can't keep carrying that guilt around with you. It isn't healthy."

"I care about you," she manages, "so … frakking much." _Why does this have to be so hard?_ "I can't let anything happen to you. So we've got to walk away now. Before we start something we can't stop."

Each word is a new wound.

"That's why you ran," Lee says with sudden comprehension. "On New Caprica."

Kara nods grimly. Her voice is barely audible as she admits, "I was scared. I _am_ … scared."

Before she knows it, he's pulled her into a hug and she's rapidly losing control. She wants to say _Thank you for not coming today, it's the first step, it will make things easier_ but the words get lost as she leans against his chest, feels his uniform on her cheek and his heart beating slowly and steadily. His voice rumbles through her as he speaks.

"Sorry, Starbuck. It's not going to be that easy."

She blinks. "What?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easily. Not again."

"Lee –"

"No. Listen." With his index finger he lifts her chin so she's staring into his eyes, getting lost in all that blue. "When have you ever run away from something that frightens you? You see a Raider and you don't run, you attack, head-on."

"That's combat. It's different."

"How?"

Kara considers. "I'm not afraid to die. I never have been. It's just flying. If I can save a friend or one of my nuggets from getting blown up, or give the fleet extra time to jump, it'll be worth it. It's my job, Lee. Yours too."

"But don't you think we're afraid of losing you too?" For the first time, some of the pain in his voice has spread to his eyes, and she hates to see that. "Don't you think that when I saw you go down on the algae planet, when I heard you screaming over the comm, that I wanted to die too? We'd just gotten a chance at a new life and frak if it wasn't being taken away from us. I couldn't take that."

"That's why we can't work, Lee!" She's growing emphatic again. "It's our frakking jobs to put our lives on the godsdamned line. Someday one of us isn't going to come back, whether it's the Cylon that catches you before I can get there or the fuel line that blows me to smithereens. And what's that going to do to the other, unless we die together? I've gone through it twice. _Twice._ I can't again."

"You loved Zak," Lee says desperately. "You loved Sam. Would you have given up what you had with them just because you knew in advance they were going to die?"

It's a difficult question. It's one Kara has often asked herself, asked the gods. It's one to which she knows there is only a single honest answer. An answer that will pivot her in favour of his argument, an answer that will allow her to give herself to him fully, without reservations. She knows that and so does he.

Kara gives that answer. "No."

Lee kisses her again, slowly and deeply, and this time she doesn't feel as guilty. This time she responds.

"I love you, Kara Thrace."

This time it doesn't hurt so much to hear those words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fear doesn't seem as important as it was, for whatever reason.

Kara sleeps more soundly now. The fear doesn't seem as important as it was, for whatever reason. The decision that caused her as much physical and emotional pain as the last bandage change has been rendered moot. Somehow, the knowledge that Lee was willing to plead for her, that he did not want to let her go, even after everything she has put him through, is as important as anything she has ever known. And for the first time since both of them died, she is able to look back upon the memories of her engagement to Zak and marriage to Sam with something resembling fondness. Before, any positive feelings she might have conjured were clouded and obscured by guilt. The path to healing isn't complete, and she believes it never will be, but she has started to find her way.

The importance of this revelation cannot be adequately measured. Kara wonders more than once if this is just a buildup by the gods for the next bout of torture they have planned for her.

A week and a half after her Raptor crashed, Cottle finally decrees that she's well enough to leave sickbay. Lee is present for the usual bandage change, and when the doctor gives Kara instructions for the care of her hands (continue taking morpha every three hours; don't touch anything; get help with bathing, dressing and other tasks; and be available for bandage changes every three days), she knows he's speaking as much to Lee as he is to her. Then her hands are finally released from the metal frame, and Lee helps her to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You want a chair?" he asks.

"A _wheel_chair?" Kara blinks at him. "Apollo, do you even realize what a beating my reputation will take if Hotdog sees me pulling up to the bunkroom in a _wheelchair?_"

Lee laughs. "I'm guessing I don't."

"Apparently not, or you wouldn't even have asked the frakking question."

But she's unsteady when she stands up, such that she stumbles against him and he has to hold her securely to prevent her from falling. Cottle brings the chair without another word, and his stern glance tells her she'd better accept it.

"I'm drunk," Kara mutters as Lee wheels her out of sickbay. She's keeping her eyes on the deck and is hoping that they don't meet anyone she knows – or if they do, that the person doesn't recognize her. "I'm drunk. Okay? That's the cover story. Too drunk to stand."

"Everyone knows what happened, Starbuck," he sighs. "They know about the crash. And how could they not know you've been in sickbay since then? Hell, I had Racetrack taking your place on CAP. They'll know."

"Asshole, you're supposed to go along with my fantasies, not kill them," she mutters, but she can't conjure the energy required to be truly annoyed. Every bump that the chair traverses is an unwelcome jolt to her hands.

"Fantasies, hmm?" There's a distinct smirk in Lee's tone. "Tell me more about these fantasies."

Impulsively she looks up at him, Starbuck grin firmly in place. "Pervert."

"You want to be frakked three times and _I'm_ the pervert?"

"Four," Kara automatically corrects. "You owe me for that one time Tigh held you up in that meeting."

"I don't remember agreeing to this particular bargain," says Lee's voice. His body, however, says something different. From this angle she can clearly see telltale evidence, and she aches to reach out and squeeze it.

She settles for the next best thing, leaning her head back until she's just touching him. "Liar."

The chair jerks slightly and there's a sharp intake of breath. "_Frak_. Would you not do that?"

Kara snickers through the renewed pain in her hands. "I told you so."

"I could abandon you right here, you know." But the impact of his threat is diminished by his eyes crinkling at the corners. He's hiding a smile.

She tries and fails to look innocent. "Who would help you with your little, ah, problem then?"

Lee wiggles his fingers in her face. "I'm sure I could work something out."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Well. Yeah." He swallows, bends forward and kisses her once, right there in the hallway. Then the chair's moving again, with not a little speed.

"Impatient?" Kara teases.

And she wants him, wants to take advantage of her hands being freed from the frame to hold him and hug him properly, but by the time they get to the bunkroom – mercifully empty – her eyes are closing. Kara's disgusted with herself, and the feeling only grows as Lee deposits two morpha pills onto her tongue, helps her into her rack, climbs in after her, pulls the curtain and undresses her to her bra. He lies next to her, stroking her hair softly.

"Sorry, hotshot," she murmurs, a slight amount of guilt coursing through her as his erection presses the small of her back. A yawn nearly cracks her jaw. "Lemme nap first. Won't be any fun if I fall asleep on you, will I?"

Lee kisses the back of her neck, reaching over her to reposition her arms slightly. Kara's grateful; there's now not nearly as much pressure on her hands. "I'll be here when you wake up," he whispers, and she falls asleep to his breath on her cheek and his fingers in her hair.

***

Kara doesn't believe him. Despite his words to her, she figures he'll have CAP, or CIC will call him, or the nuggets'll come into the bunkroom and Lee will get embarrassed and split. But she comes back to consciousness to the pleasant feel of the morpha in her system and to his warm body at her back. He's moving rhythmically and beginning to breathe quickly.

It's only with some effort that she keeps quiet, listening carefully. Trying to figure out if her theory is correct. But then his left hand comes up and traces the curve of her breasts through her sports bra, and Kara knows for sure.

"Are you beating off in my bunk, Apollo?" she asks conversationally.

Lee jumps, and Kara shouts with laughter. "I, um, didn't realize you were awake," he stammers.

She looks at his hand, now venturing lower and circling her navel, and turns with some difficulty so she's facing him. Somehow he's managed to remove his tanks and push his pants down to his ankles, not easy in the confined space. A familiar grin lights her face. "Don't mind me. I'll just enjoy the show."

"Ha ha." Lee traces her jawline next, brushing his fingers lightly over her lips. She inhales; he smells of salt and sex and sweat and that scent she loves so much, the scent that is uniquely him. "Nah, I was waiting for you."

"And what if you _couldn't_ wait?" Kara teases. "This is a black bra, pervert."

"So?"

"So I don't need your boy germs all over it." She elbows him in the ribs and is rewarded with a pleasant _oof_. "Imagine what the nuggets'd say then. We don't get primo laundry service around here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"You don't seem nearly so particular about my _boy germs_ inside you," Lee remarks with a laugh.

"Smartass. That's because I don't have to worry about throwing myself in a washing machine."

"And besides, it gets you off," he whispers right in her ear.

She kisses him, long and slow and sensual. "It gets you off too."

Lee grinds against her, careful to keep clear of her hands, which she's holding out of the way. "Remember our bargain, Starbuck?"

"Mmm, remind me again …"

"Now who's the smartass?" He grasps her shoulders and turns her slowly, slipping her bra over her shoulders and pressing her back against his chest. His hands are circling around until they clasp her breasts, and she doesn't bother to restrain a moan as her nipples stiffen.

"I dogged the hatch, and the room's empty," Lee adds, "which I'm sure you'll be pleased to know now that you're announcing our activities to the whole ship."

"Uh, when have I ever cared about making noise in public?"

"Fair point." With one hand Lee continues to slide her bra up over her arms, and with the other he palms a breast, palms the other, lets his index finger drift in a line down her belly.

Kara arches against him, feels his cock probing her back and arches again, eliciting a solid groan. "Two can play at this game, hotshot. Ow," she adds as the bra grazes her left hand. "Ow ow ow, okay wait. Both hands, Lee. You need both hands. _Ow_." The pain distracts her, a decidedly unwelcome intruder, and Lee freezes.

"Sorry," he whispers, and his voice is full of concern for her as he finishes removing the offending garment and simply holds her, hugging her to him. She breathes deeply, concentrating on the feel of Lee against her skin and the placating kisses and nibbles he's pressing to her neck.

"It's okay, it's okay," and it is, for the pleasure soon overtakes the discomfort and Kara's ready again, squirming against him and wet and wanting to fulfill the first part of their bargain.

She expects him to turn her over again, but he doesn't, just clasps her hip and with the other hand, slowly guides himself inside her heat.

"_Frak_," Kara exhales.

"Yeah," Lee confirms.

"_Ohhhh_." Another long moan is torn from her as he moves, just slightly, and his hands slide back around her breasts. "Frakfrakfrak. _Oh_."

Lee's right hand snakes down past her belly and between her legs, where they are joined, and he finds her clit and just presses, presses until warmth is everywhere and she's moaning his name like a prayer. Part of her is wondering where he learned to do such marvelous things with his hands but right now she doesn't care, right now she just wants this, needs this. This. Him.

It's so good to feel him touching her without the answering pain of a bandage change.

Lee starts thrusting in earnest now and Kara goes blissfully blank. Her only regret is that she can't touch him, can't stroke his cheek or tangle her fingers in his hair – not without blinding pain, anyway, and she doesn't want to risk that right now. So she settles for arching against him with each thrust, enjoying the answering grunts issuing from his lips. She's having an effect on him and that is more than enough, for now.

"Kara," Lee groans tightly, and suddenly he's palming her clit and plucking at her nipples more rapidly than ever. She realizes he's close and knows almost simultaneously that she is, too, and seconds after that understanding slams into her mind, so does her climax.

A single long moan, which may or may not include his name, and Kara arches again most fiercely, and then it's over. Then she's waiting and smiling as Lee hugs her and thrusts harder, faster, kissing her neck, both hands on her breasts now. His breath catches deliciously and he shudders out her name, into her hair, while she feels herself fill with his wetness.

"Well," she says.

"Well," he answers vaguely. He's still full of her, and she knows that. Loves it.

"One down, three to go," Kara smiles.

"Yeah." Lee combs his fingers through her hair. "You know, you should grow your hair out again. It looks nice long."

She blinks at the sudden change in topic, and shivers with the unwanted memories. "Gods, that mop? Couldn't wait to cut it, actually. Besides, can you picture me stuffing it into a helmet when I go back on duty?"

"Guess it'd be hard." He kisses the back of her neck and pulls out slowly, turning her so they're facing each other. "Speaking of duty, I go on it in twenty minutes. Anything you need before then?"

Kara sighs. Despite Lee's ministrations to her in sickbay, she's not yet used to – nor does she think she will _ever_ be used to – him taking care of her in this manner. They've always done what was necessary for one another: made sure they were both fed and clothed; bullied each other to take extra rack time; spotted each other in the gym; pushed each other to be better pilots, better officers, better human beings; and fought like fiends throughout all of the above. But this is a new facet of their relationship, a facet in which Lee gives without expecting anything from her in return. And Kara still isn't sure how she feels about allowing herself to be weak around someone in front of whom she has always projected an aura of indomitable strength. She's never shown weakness around anyone.

No. Scratch that. There was _one_ person.

Zak Adama.

She decides to test Zak's brother. See exactly how far he's willing to take this.

"I haven't washed since before the crash," Kara admits. "I mean, they did stuff in sickbay to make sure I didn't pollute the air too badly, but what I'd really like is a nice hot shower."

She waits for him to tease. Waits for the inevitable smart remark. It doesn't come.

Lee instead takes her request without a blink. "All right. First thing after CAP, you get your shower. I promise."

"Apollo, you can't be frakking serious." Kara doesn't bother to keep the mixture of incredulity and disdain out of her voice. "You're the CAG of this godsdamned ship, you can't afford to take time out just to make sure someone gets a shower. And not only gets a shower, is helped into that shower and washed and –"

He silences her with a finger pressed to her lips. "Kara, when are you going to start believing I want to help you? Or is it going to take another week of dressing you and undressing you and giving you meds and taking you to the frakking head for you to understand?"

She doesn't know how to answer that, so she settles for worrying at her bottom lip and thanking the gods for the irritation in his last words. At least _some_ of the old Lee is still there.

"Besides, you're my Top Gun, as you never cease to remind me," he continues. "It's in my interest as CAG to make sure your recovery goes smoothly."

At this Kara smiles, and laughs a little. "True. I won't argue your point there."

Lee raises up on one elbow and begins the process of untangling their legs. "And I love you," he finishes.

"Well. Yes. There's that." She stretches languidly, arching her arms over the top of her head, and abruptly hooks her leg around his hip as he climbs over her. Lee, off balance, topples into her chest. "Hi, Lee," Kara grins.

For a moment she's not sure whether he's going to laugh or start cursing her out. The expression on his face is a mixture of both attendant emotions. Finally he chooses laughter. "Frak you, Kara. I've got patrol."

Kara leans up and kisses his lips. "You said that a minute ago. You also said you loved me."

He laughs again, shakes his head, kisses back. "You're a piece of work, Starbuck."

"No more than you," she fires back.

Lee showers, and Kara doesn't bother to hide the fact that she's watching him in all his states of dress and undress, and he doesn't bother to fight the grin that appears on his face when he realizes she's looking. They're so … _comfortable_ now, and it's strange, but it's reassuring at the same time.

He gives her more morpha, washed down with a glass of water that he holds for her, and kisses her again and whispers, "Shower. After CAP."

Kara nods, and watches him leave. It occurs to her that for the first time in months, she feels completely at peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look at these, Lee. Look. Just look. They're wrapped up and I can't do a frakking godsdamned thing with them and when I try, well, you saw what just happened. I can't walk, I can't eat, I can't undress myself, I can't visit the frakking _head_ without someone else. You should frakking know me, you _know_ I hate this. And now, well … look at me. Just look."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in the head was at least partly inspired by Kate Andrews's wonderful ["Intra"](http://svilleficrecs.livejournal.com/102660.html).

She dreams he doesn't come back.

But it's not like a dream, it's not like the foggy nightmares they've all had since New Caprica and even since the Colonies were destroyed. This is completely and implicitly real. She's trapped in it and she can't climb out, no matter how hard she tries.

It starts when she's called to CIC. DRADIS chimes just as she gets there and it's a Cylon fleet, and they've been caught totally unawares. Kara listens over the wireless as two of the nuggets are blown away immediately, and then it's just Lee against all those Raiders, and her stomach clenches and she feels sick to her stomach because she knows she isn't there to save him this time. And before anyone can do anything, he's gone.

Just gone. Gone like Zak, and it's her fault because she got shot down and couldn't save him.

Kara wakes in a cold sweat, breathing as though she's just finished a run.

The curtains of her rack are mercifully closed, for she can hear Hotdog and Racetrack and the rest of them moving around, laughing, joking, and Kara attempts to tamp down on her nausea, still unsure about what's the dream and what's reality.

_Would they really be laughing and joking around if their CAG had just been killed in a sneak attack?_

Maybe they don't know yet. Frak, they must not know yet.

Her head pounds. Bile rushes up her throat again and it's only through supreme force of will that she doesn't gag.

Then the hatch opens, and she tries to convince herself it isn't _him_, that she needs to start moving on, because he's gone and he's not coming back. But it's Lee. It's Lee, instructing the nuggets to clear out.

"Come on, guys, you don't have somewhere else you have to be?"

Kara can sense Hotdog's smirk from inside her rack. "No, sir. Any particular reason why you don't want us in the bunkroom?"

"I'm sure Apollo has his reasons," another voice speaks up firmly. Helo.

"Yeah, reasons that involve Starbuck's bunk," Racetrack says, and there's a round of snickering.

"I'll make it an order if I have to," Lee barks, and scuffling erupts throughout the room, accompanied by "Yes sir's" and "Sorry sir's" and "Lemme just grab my cards and I'm gone's." Lockers slam shut, footsteps pound past her bunk and the hatch closes. Locks.

Then the curtain begins to slide open. She holds her breath.

Lee is standing there.

Only then does Kara exhale.

"Hey," he whispers, squatting down and reaching to stroke her cheek. "Ready for that shower?"

Godsdamnit, she wants to take him and hold him and pin him up against the wall and finally reassure herself that he's real. Kara bites her lip to keep the tears from showing in her eyes, and then wonders why she thought that would work. Lee's wise to her instantly.

"Frak," she whispers, and that's all she can get out before he pulls her up, gently but firmly, drapes her arms around his neck and clutches her to him. Pats her back. Kisses her once, twice, three times, she loses count.

"It's okay," he says right in her ear, and finally, with his warm weight against her, Kara can believe that.

"Frak," she murmurs again.

"What happened?" Lee asks, and his tone is that of concern.

"Nothing. Nothing." She tries to disengage from him but he holds her tight, and she can't push him away without using her hands, and godsdamn him, he knows that. "All right, fine. I had a frakking nightmare, okay? You don't have to alert the press corps."

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," he points out, and she smiles against his shoulder at the irony of that statement. Considering her dream that may as well be true.

"I just, um …" Kara pushes her tongue in and out of her cheek, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of telling him. "It's just one of those dumb things that happens, right? We've all had bad dreams."

Finally Lee pulls back. "Kara, when I opened that curtain, I won't lie, you looked like you were going to lose it. I've never seen you like that after just a nightmare. What was it?"

No choice, then. So be it. She looks at her lap, at her hands like puffy white snowballs on her knees. "You died," she whispers.

Saying the words out loud will make them true.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Kara gazes at the ceiling of the bunkroom, at the lockers, at the hatch, anywhere but at Lee. "It, um, it was stupid, you were running CAP and the Cylons came and no one could get back in time, and I just stood there in CIC and listened … I couldn't do anything. Except watch you explode. It felt like it was really happening."

She chances a look back at him and to her surprise, he's nodding in understanding. "Morpha dreams," he says. "They're a bitch, but then you already know that. I remember having them in sickbay when I was recovering after the Cloud Nine thing. Something in the morpha messes with your head; I don't know what it is but it's damned powerful. I'd wake up from one and I'd be sweating buckets, afraid to go back to sleep. We should get Cottle to put you back on the tranquilizers, at least for now. That's the only thing that helped me."

"Oh gods, please no," she mutters. "I _hate_ those frakking things. I'd rather have the nightmares."

But she's picturing Lee's Viper blowing up at the same time, and her tone rises uncertainly.

"Kara, come on. We both know that's not true."

"No more godsdamned pills," Kara says flatly. "The morpha's bad enough. Only reason I take that is so I don't try ripping off my own hands." And she stands abruptly and awkwardly. It's the gait of a person who's been in bed for a week and a half. But for Lee's reflexes she'd be lying on the floor now.

"Hey, careful," he warns, wrapping an arm securely around her and steadying her. "You don't have to take the trancs if you don't want to. I was just trying to help."

She wriggles desperately, trying to squirm out of his grasp. "Yeah, Lee, _everyone's_ just trying to help. Everyone's been trying to frakking _help_ for a godsdamned _week_ now and I'm _sick_ of it!" Kara goes still for a minute and then quickly wiggles again, actually managing to take advantage of his momentary inattention and free herself. She starts immediately towards the head, intending to show him how little help she needs now by getting there on her own.

That's the plan, anyway.

The reality goes somewhat differently. Kara hasn't taken more than two or three steps across the bunkroom when suddenly everything turns fuzzy. Disoriented, she tries to clutch at the nearest rack and an answering stab of pain from her right hand makes her regret it rather quickly. She jerks her arm back like the rack is too hot, and realizes too late that the rest of the room is horribly off-balance now. Almost simultaneously, the floor rushes up to meet her, and her left hand makes contact with the steel in a hard _whack_.

It's not a hard impact, and it probably wouldn't even be enough to give the average person a bruise. But Kara's hands are still sensitive to even the lightest of touches, and they certainly aren't up to handling this. Her right hand is throbbing and the left seems to have run headlong into a wall. She never knew you could actually see stars just from pain.

"Kara!"

It takes her a moment to realize that the anxious shout has come from Lee. He's at her side in a second, pulling her carefully over to recline in his lap and pressing her cheek to his chest. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispers. "It's okay. Here. Here, let me see." Kara understands that he means her hands, and she tries to hold them out of his reach, but she's just not fast enough. Lee captures first her left arm and then her right, his strong fingers holding on just below her wrists.

He has beautiful hands. She can't remember noticing that before.

Absurdly, her nose is running, forcing her to sniffle, and she hates that because it's like she's crying. Damn. Damn, damn, _damn_.

"It's okay," Lee says again. Kara wishes his voice wasn't so soft, so gentle. "There's no blood. You're fine."

_Sniff_, again. Frak, frak, _frak_.

"Why did you do that, Kara?" His tone is rougher now, angrier, more like the Lee who won't take any stupidity and calls her on her bullshit. It's comforting somehow. "It's like I told you before, I _want_ to help you, but you keep pushing me the frak away. You're my best friend, I _love_ you, and I just want to understand. I wouldn't have come all the way to your Raptor on the algae planet or rearranged the flight schedules so I could be there in sickbay or done _any_ of the other stuff I've done for you if I didn't care. If I wasn't so determined to break through that godsdamned shell of yours. Every time I tear down one wall, you build five more. Why, Kara? Why?"

Lee pulls her back for a moment, just a moment, and she's looking into his eyes. Looking at all the things from which she cannot hide.

"It's _me_, Lee." Kara shifts uncomfortably. "It's what I do. You should be used to it by now."

Her voice is small and riddled with pain, but she's savagely pleased at how strong she sounds.

"I'm used to you trying to hurt me, push me away. But hurting your_self_ to push me away? That's really frakking low."

This time she draws back intentionally, incredulously. "Dammit, Lee, is that what you think this is?"

"What else is it ever with you?"

"Dammit, dammit, _dammit_." Kara wishes she could slam her hand into the floor, but she knows better than to attempt that right now, so she settles for doing the same with her foot. "When are you going to get it through your thick frakking head that it's _not_ all about you?"

"Then why don't you tell me what this _is_ about, Kara, because I can't read your frakking mind!"

They stare at each other, nose to nose, each breathing heavily and angrily.

Finally she holds out her hands. "Look at these, Lee. Look. Just look. They're wrapped up and I can't do a frakking godsdamned thing with them and when I try, well, you saw what just happened. I can't walk, I can't eat, I can't undress myself, I can't visit the frakking _head_ without someone else. You should frakking know me, you _know_ I hate this. And now, well … look at me. Just look."

Lee sighs. She waits for a rebuttal that never comes.

"Kara, I'm sorry, I know I've been patronizing, I just wanted so much to make sure you were okay –"

She interrupts him with a shout of disbelieving laughter. "You really _don't_ get it, do you? _It's not you, Lee_. It's not. It's me. Really."

To her surprise, he's chuckling too. "That sounds like the introduction to a really bad breakup letter."

Kara's now laughing so hard that tears are running down her cheeks. "I guess so," she manages when she's calmer. "But Lee, really. How would you feel if our positions were reversed? You're the same way even if you won't frakking admit it. Can you picture telling me, 'Okay, Starbuck, I have to piss now'?"

Lee screws up his face, apparently thinking hard, and somehow she knows exactly what he's going to say before he even says it. "Okay, Starbuck, I have to piss now."

Kara commends him for getting through it with a straight face. _She's_ certainly laughing even before the "Okay" is out of his mouth. Desperately fighting giggles, she says, "Ha ha, very funny, Apollo. Way to completely ruin my point."

"No, seriously." Lee's actually getting to his feet. "Five-hour CAPs are no frakking joke, you ought to know that by now. Besides, we may as well get started on that shower I promised you." He pauses. "If you want, I mean."

She lets him take her around the waist and pull her gently to her feet. "Yeah, you're not getting out of that one. Think I might actually be starting to grow algae. You could rent me out to the Fleet as a food source."

"Yuck." Lee leans over, licks the side of her neck. "Well, allow me to remove it for you, then."

"Shit, you're more of a gentleman than I thought. A disgusting one, but still."

This time, she allows him to help her through the bunkroom and into the head, noticing that they both check over their shoulders to ensure the hatch is set in the "locked" position. Lee once again proves his gentlemanliness by setting her up in one stall first before going to another. Or at least, that's what he _says_ he's proving. Kara's not sure, and she plans to tease him heartily for it later.

She finishes up and listens to a long stream of pissing in the stall next to her, so long it's hilarious, so long that she plays a game with herself and starts counting _One bat-tle-star, two bat-tle-star_ like they taught in flight school. She gets to seven before it finally abates and there's a long, relieved sigh.

"Lords," Kara snickers, "you weren't frakking kidding."

Lee zips up, the toilet flushes and he tosses out the obligatory "I told you so."

"Well, you kind of forgot to mention you used up half the fleet's water ration before you went on CAP," she points out.

He's washing his hands now at the sink. "I don't think my water consumption habits are any of your business, Kara."

She can hear the smile in his voice, though, so she doesn't drop the subject, realizing it's the only power she's had over him in quite awhile, instead of the other way around. "They are when they put everyone in danger. 'Cause I bet getting to a head was all you could think about your last two hours of patrol. You wouldn't have noticed if an entire squadron of Raiders had FTLed right in front of you."

But suddenly she's gone too far down that road again, and the memories of the nightmare bubble to the surface. Kara squeezes her eyes shut and quickly pops them open again, willing the exploding Viper to vanish.

Mercifully Lee hasn't noticed. "That's why I'm such a gentleman," he cracks from right outside her door. "I had my mind on you when I first came into the bunkroom, not on getting to the head."

"No, that's why you're such a pervert," Kara corrects. She takes her foot off the door, the only thing that's been holding it closed. "The nuggets were right."

"Yeah, well, they do occasionally guess right, if only accidentally." He enters the stall and she tries to be oblivious as he reaches for the toilet paper. This is the worst of it, worse than being dressed and undressed by someone else, worse than being fed by someone else, even worse than those ridiculous pans the sickbay nurse forced on her. Not even the most sacredly private rituals are safe.

Frakking Cylons.

But it's over quickly, which is perhaps the best thing that can be said, and Lee doesn't comment or try to make a joke out of it, which is the second best thing. Neither of them says a word, in fact, until they're standing near the sinks and he's looking uncomfortable as he scrutinizes the bottoms of her tanks.

"Sorry," he sighs, all levity left behind. A red blush has crept up his cheeks, all the way to his ears.

"Forget it, all right?" Kara hates the look on his face, the look that says he's embarrassed _for_ her. "Just forget it. It doesn't matter."

He wraps his arms around her and sighs again. "I just … I frakking hate the Cylons right now."

She tries to smile. "As opposed to when?"

"You know what I mean." He brushes his fingers through her hair and she decides she likes watching them in the mirror like this. "And I know what you mean, now."

Against her better judgment, Kara leans back, leans into him. "About what?"

"About you. About why you broke away from me. About a lot of things."

"Yeah, well." She can't think of a suitable response beyond that, so she bites her lip and lets him kiss the back of her neck for a moment, more comfort than intimacy. _His_ comfort. Kara still hasn't worked out how she feels, and she's not sure she ever will. She's not sure she wants to. "So how about that shower, Apollo? If you're not sick of being my slave yet."

This, at least, makes him smile a real smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.

The shower feels like a relief for both of them. Perhaps it's because when he lifts her tanks and thumbs down her pants it's like they're getting ready for a good hard frak, and that's nothing new. Kara stands naked, her back to the sink, hands wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, and watches as Lee strips, trying not to think of what she'd do to him if she was able. She tries not to become sensitized to the feel of skin touching skin as they walk together towards one of the showers. She attempts to fight the urge to notice how well their bodies fit together.

She fails on all counts.

Lee helps her into the shower, pressing her up against the wall for balance and shutting the door after them. There's an almost comical moment as they roam each other's bodies with their eyes, and Kara can't help smiling when her gaze drifts down over his chest, following the line of fine dark hair leading from his belly button to the dark curls around his cock. He's just beginning to harden.

Instinctively she runs her tongue over her lips, drags her eyes back up to his face and promptly gets lost in all that blue.

"So," Kara says.

"So," Lee answers after a pause.

"Turn on the water, genius," she teases.

"Right." He reaches around her, twists the faucet and a fine hot spray erupts between them. For a moment she forgets all about Lee, forgets he's standing there with her and just luxuriates in the warmth and cleansing of the water. She hasn't been in a shower for almost two whole weeks now, and she intends to savour every moment of it that she can.

Though there are other benefits, too.

Lee takes a bar of soap from the small tray and holds his hands under the water, allowing a fine white coating of bubbles to appear. She expects him to grab one of the washcloths, expects but doesn't _want_, and so it's a welcome surprise when he gently takes her right arm in his left hand and begins moving the soapy hand up, carefully lathering her. His touch sends sparks down her arm.

"Frak me," Kara mutters.

Instantly he pauses. "Something wrong?"

Colour's rising to her cheeks now. "No, I just – I thought you'd use a cloth, that's all."

Lee is immediately agreeable. "I can if you want. This is just how I do it, though, and I thought …"

Kara briefly closes her eyes as her brain cheerfully supplies several images of him alone in the shower, soaping himself. "It's fine," she smiles, pleased at how casual she sounds. "Go ahead. Really."

And so Lee begins again.

Gently he holds her just below her wrist, moving his other hand up and down until she's fully lathered, and passes her arm through the spray. He reaches for her other arm and soaps from wrist to shoulder, fingers carefully scrubbing, and repeats the rinsing.

Kara wonders idly where he'll go next. The unspoken question is answered almost immediately as Lee soaps his hand again and brushes it over her chest, tracing her collarbone and venturing lower, slowly, carefully, until he's cupping her breast and tracing circles around her nipple. Not for the first time she wonders who's really benefiting, him or her or both of them, and she's about to make one of her patented Starbuck wisecracks when Lee thumbs her nipple and her world vanishes in a sea of pleasure as he massages it into a stiff pebbly peak. She tries to bite down on a moan, tries and fails.

Almost simultaneously the pace of his breathing picks up.

"Lee," Kara mumbles, and she thinks maybe he should stop, but can't come up with a reason why.

"Kara," he answers, and his voice has turned low and husky. She chances a glance downwards, between them, and finds that her suspicion is correct.

Again she wants to make some kind of smart remark, potentially involving the Arrow of Apollo, but can't find the words. And next moment she doesn't care, with his fingers trailing soap down the middle of her belly towards her navel, and lower, lower, until his thumb presses her clit. As soon as that contact is made she forgets about her hands, forgets she needs to be careful, and lets her knees buckle. Once more instinct kicks in, her arms flinging out and about to slam, brutally so, into the tile wall of the shower.

Lee catches her.

She doesn't know where his arms come from, because one moment he's on his knees and the next his arms are around her and he's clasping her tightly, her hands dangling over his shoulders like pendulums.

"Easy," he whispers, and then, "Sorry, that was frakking stupid."

Kara tries to muster the breath to agree with him. Her lips even start to form the word _Yeah_. But it gets lost.

It gets lost because she leans forward, and kisses him.

The heat is still in her belly and she knows that the wetness between her legs isn't just from the shower, and that prompts her to deepen the kiss, to nibble at his lips, to poke her tongue out and lick him, long and slow. His hands are still on her back, and it's driving her frakking crazy.

Lee responds. She wondered at first if he wouldn't, but he does, and suddenly they're locked in it, and desperately so. It occurs to Kara that maybe they should have started kissing _first_, but she doesn't care very much about that either, not when their lips have parted and he's licking so deliciously down her neck. He smells of soap and cinnamon and Lee.

Kara presses against him, feeling his fine chest hairs tickling her nipples and arousing her yet further. And he's not stopping her, so she grinds. Slowly. A solid groan snakes from his mouth and their lips meet again, more fiercely, more possessively, but needy at the same time.

"Kara," Lee says softly when they break for breath. "Let me finish."

She blinks, confused for a moment, and he holds up his soap-covered hand. So she lets him, lets him turn her around and massage up and down her back. Only now the motions seem far more erotic, designed to turn her on rather than to scrub two weeks' worth of grime from her skin. Not that she needs much help getting turned on, of course.

Lee rinses off the soap, puts his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back to him. Presses her against him once more, and the heat that had started to dissipate flares again instantly. Kara leans around him, nibbles his neck, wishes again that she had the use of her hands so that she could rake her nails along his back. The skin there is so perfect, moles and freckles dotted along its surface. It cries out to be touched. Marred with marks of her possession.

She settles for biting his shoulder, gently, and he groans again. It's an almost pathetic sound, filled with need.

"Kara …" Lee whispers.

Her legs are already spread, waiting for him.

Kara always thought frakking in a shower was such an exciting notion, but strangely, she's never actually done it before with any of her partners. Zak was so often running out the door in the morning to one or another early class, leaving her in the stall by herself to slip her hand between her legs and finish. They didn't _have_ proper showers on New Caprica, showers you could climb into with a partner and go to town. Not that this prevented her from being inventive with Sam, but it was different. Just different. And her other partners, all of them, were casual partners. Odds on they never saw any part of her apartment aside from her bedroom.

But this is Lee, and so Kara supposes in her more lucid moments that it's fitting.

Shower sex, it develops, is much more romantic in the imagination than when attempted in actuality. She can't brace herself against the walls, nor can she clutch him, so he's forced to support both of them as he insinuates himself between her legs, arms circling to join behind her back and clasp her to him.

Kara would never go so far to call herself _afraid_, not in any circumstance. But she finds a new kind of security in Lee's arms, a security of whose existence she was previously aware only briefly, in sickbay. This man knows the most intimate parts of her, and not only because he has made love to her. He knows them because he has seen her at her worst, deadened by pain. He knows them because he has helped her through the bandage changes. He knows them from the task he just performed for her in the head. He knows them, having seen past the armour of her callsign, Starbuck, and through to the woman underneath, Kara Thrace. Perhaps most importantly, he loves them both.

There is nothing further to be gained by not being herself.

So for the moment, irrevocably, she lets go. Lets go of everything. The fear, the doubt, the self-recriminations. Everything.

She moves with Lee as he thrusts, and it's gentle and loving and everything she never expected a frak between them to be. He trails kisses down her jaw and up towards her ear, nibbling slowly, and she reciprocates even through the simultaneous understanding that it is not expected. Her head is on his chest when she comes with only the lightest whisper of his name. He knows, though, just as she knows moments later when he buries his face in her hair and fills her with his own climax.

Later Lee dresses her and tucks her into his rack, and Kara lets him because she's run out of reasons to protest. She is just Kara, and although she has no doubt that she could call the Starbuck persona into being were it required, it isn't at the moment. She is at peace. She can't ever remember this feeling before.

Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.

Peace is learning to understand that those things will occur, and resolving to worry only when they do.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's different, darker, all of her demons deciding at once that this is an appropriate time to make an appearance. No doubt Lee's suspicion is correct, and the morpha is behind it, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. She can't tell herself that in the dream; all she can do is watch as the past parades across her field of vision, berating her for both real and imagined sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write, but I think it's an important one nevertheless. Full disclosure: the "mature themes" mainly refers to an appearance by Kara's mother, and all the attendant issues there, plus a reexamination of the New Caprica incidents.

She has another nightmare.

It's different, darker, all of her demons deciding at once that this is an appropriate time to make an appearance. No doubt Lee's suspicion is correct, and the morpha is behind it, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. She can't tell herself that in the dream; all she can do is watch as the past parades across her field of vision, berating her for both real and imagined sins.

_New Caprica. The prison cruelly masquerading as an apartment. She knows who's going to appear but she fights it, won't face him until he's standing right behind her and makes her turn, trailing his hand along her jaw in a hideous travesty of the gesture she loves from Lee. She looks about for potential weapons and realizes there are none at the same time she gazes down and sees that her hands are still wrapped and therefore useless. _

Leoben has her by the wrists anyway, draws her towards him, and she fights desperately, as hard as she can, but it's too hard without hands and Kara, panicked, topples. Topples against him and panics more as his words tickle her ear.

"He's dead, Kara. Now I can show you your destiny."

"Motherfrakking liar!" She finds her voice, but not any reassurance. "Why should I believe a godsdamned word you say?"

"I killed him myself." Leoben's tone is still soft, but there is now an uncompromising quality to it that is utterly chilling. "Lee Adama was an obstacle, Kara. An obstacle to your discovery of your true self. As was Anders. They were a part of a future that was never designed for you."

Sam is dead. She knows that. She buried him last week.

Is it possible, then …?

"NO!" Kara screams, loudly enough to make the Cylon draw back. So much the better. "YOU – ARE – A – GODSDAMNED – MOTHERFRAKKING – LIAR!"

The toaster takes it. Calmly.

"Through me, you will find the way, Kara Thrace," Leoben says. He carefully draws a bloodstained metal chopstick from his pocket. "So useful, those lessons you taught me …"

Her stomach churns. The blood is vivid, bright. She has a horrible suspicion just whose it might be.

"Fortunately, unlike myself, Apollo will not be coming back," he finishes. Tucks the chopstick back into his pocket, satisfaction written all over his face.

Kara falls to the ground in earnest. She is retching before she hits the carpet.

Leoben comes with her. "Such petty attachments," he murmurs, sounding almost curious as he grabs her wrists again. "We will have to work on that, Kara."

Fingers slide torturously upwards, and by the time they have reached her hands, she is staring into her mother's face.

"Why do you think you deserved his love, Kara?" Socrata snaps, clutching her daughter's hands. Hard. "How can you think you deserve anyone's? Didn't you pay attention? Look at me, worthless brat. Look me in the eye."

Kara hates herself for starting to shake from the pain. Hates herself because the only word she can muster is, "Momma …"

"Obviously not." The open-handed smack catches Kara before she can even contemplate a reaction. "Remember why your father left? Remember why Lee died? I'll have to teach you again."

Kara grits her teeth, bites her tongue and does what she's always done. The only thing she can do.

Wait it out.

"Kara! KARA!"

Someone is on top of her, and she knows exactly who it is. He's not going to get her again. This time she's going to fight, she's going to hit him, no matter how much it hurts. This time he's not going to take advantage of her, conjure up the ghost of her mother, torment her with Lee's death and the bloodied murder weapon. This time she's going to be strong.

Kara lashes out and the punch meets its mark, cheek by the sound of it, exactly the spot to leave a deep bruise. There's an "OW!" and she's no longer trapped and plans to take advantage of it, or at least she would if her hand wasn't being cut off, right now, without anesthetic. She gasps at the ferocity of the pain, tears stinging her eyes, and it just goes on and on and someone's pressing her to them now –

Her eyes fly open.

"_Lee!_"

It's a choked gasp.

And suddenly she doesn't care about her reputation anymore, or being Starbuck, or anything else. Lee is alive and Leoben hasn't killed him and that's all that matters and she's crying but she can't frakking _stop_ and it's so good to be in his arms –

His arms.

Security returns slowly. It returns as Kara feels Lee's hands on her back, caressing gently, and his kisses in her hair and his voice as he whispers, "Hey, hey, it's okay, you're all right." It returns as the panic gradually flows out of her, as she can attune her breathing to the beat of his heart. All that's left is the pain, the terrific pain in her hand, and the wetness on her cheeks and the way he doesn't question her, just tries to soothe.

"Kara?" Lee finally says, when the fight goes out of her.

She looks up, needing to see his face, his eyes, make sure he's really alive, but next second the image of Leoben driving a chopstick into Lee's neck makes bile rise in her throat and she ducks back down again, grimacing.

"Do you want some more pills?" Lee asks gently.

Dejectedly Kara nods. Then it strikes her that the morpha was what gave her the nightmare in the first place and that maybe she shouldn't take more, but Lee's already climbed out of the bunk and is rummaging through one of the lockers beyond the curtain. She hears him exchange quiet words with someone else in the bunkroom – Racetrack, by the sounds of it – and then the curtain rustles as Lee climbs back through. He opens his palm and holds out four pills.

"Four?" Kara blinks.

Instead of responding immediately, Lee fixes her with one of his direct stares. "You had another nightmare, right?"

She can feel panic sneaking up behind her. "Lee, I – I don't want to talk about this right now –"

"I went to Cottle after the shower and I got some of these. They're _not_ tranquilizers," he adds as Kara opens her mouth to protest. "They'll help you relax. And you won't have any more nightmares."

Her eyes find his jaw. As she suspected, there's a large red spot that will have blossomed into a lovely bruise by morning. Guilt grips her, guilt and fear and so many other emotions that she can neither count nor categorize them all. Emotions she packed away after New Caprica and vowed never to examine again.

"Kara, please." His fingers come up, stroke her cheek, and she hates how she flinches. "Do you know I tried to wake you for ten minutes? You were moaning, thrashing around, crying. Racetrack actually asked me if she should call sickbay."

A hot blush creeps to Kara's face. If Racetrack's heard, odds are the whole bunkroom has as well. Reluctantly she leans forward, opens her mouth, allows Lee to deposit the pills one by one onto her tongue. His fingers brush her lips, spreading warmth that she so desperately needs, and she wonders why the gods have seen fit to allow this man to love her so unconditionally. She certainly doesn't deserve it.

"There, that's better," Lee says after the last swallow of water. He helps her to lie down, arranges her so that she's wrapped in him once again without pressure on her hands.

Kara bites her lip, waits for the pain to go away, and prays that he won't want to talk.

"Kara," begins Lee, and inwardly she sighs. Oh well, at least the gods are consistent. "What was that about?"

"What's there to tell?" Kara replies, trying to keep her voice light despite the discomfort present. "It was a morpha dream. You said yourself, they're hell."

He tenses, holds her more tightly, and she can tell he's preparing for one of their customary battles of will. So be it then. "Not just any dream. You were saying names, Kara. Names of people and denials that other people were dead and – well, you talked about Cylons."

It's her turn to go rigid. But it's rigidity with fear. "What do you mean?"

"The model that held you captive on New Caprica, what was its name?"

He's looking at her now and no matter how much her eyes dart around the small rack, searching for an escape, he won't stop looking and Kara finds none. She doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't want to confess to Lee how weak she was on that godsforsaken planet. How the Cylons mindfrakked her into submission. How, under the right circumstances, even something as simple as a fork or a chopstick could be converted to a deadly weapon.

Lee is still looking.

He's seen a lot of weakness from her in the last two weeks.

"Leoben," she finally chokes.

He nods, comprehension in his eyes. "That's what you called me just before I woke you up. You told me to get off of you, and then … well, it's good to know your left hook still works." Lee smiles as he gingerly probes his jaw.

Kara's left hand stings in sympathy. "Sorry," she whispers miserably.

"Hey, you think I can't take what you dish out? Come on, Starbuck. You know me better than that."

His use of her callsign prompts a smile, at least, however small and weak it might be. It's wiped off her face with Lee's very next question.

"Kara, what happened on New Caprica?"

She summons Starbuck now, the part of her that clamps armour in place and throws up the invisible shields that very few are ever able to penetrate. She'll need her alter ego during the coming conversation, she can tell.

"You read the reports. You should know."

"Frak the reports. The reports don't say shit. They don't tell me that you left for New Caprica happy and drunk and actually looking forward to the future, and that when you came back I hadn't seen you looking so frakking sick of life since Zak died." Kara shuts her eyes tightly at the intrusion of yet another unwanted memory, but Lee isn't finished yet. "And they sure don't tell me why. I know about Sam. I know you were kept in a detention cell. But there's something else, something you haven't told anybody. Something that made my father knock a chair out from under your frakking _ass_ when you came back. You are my best friend, and I love you, Kara. And I want to know why the hell you woke up screaming that Cylon's name. Please. Tell me."

Kara wills the tears not to fall, but they do anyway.

"Why now, Lee?" she manages. "Why?"

"Because I know you, that's why. I know that if we don't resolve this now you'll never talk about it. You'll keep it inside. And I know that's what you do, you keep everything that happens to you inside, but you can't. It's going to get to be too much. It isn't like you're trying to conceal weakness, either. You're the strongest frakking person I know. These last few weeks have proven that, beyond a doubt."

She concentrates on how safe she feels in his arms, how she molds into his touch, rather than the truth of his words. It's just easier that way.

Sort of.

"It wasn't a detention cell." Kara's whispering now, outright.

"I'm sorry?"

Yeah. Right. "Lee, it wasn't a detention cell. On New Caprica. They kept me in an apartment, within the detention complex."

Even without looking at him she can tell his brow is furrowed in confusion. "An apartment? Why?"

Kara snorts. "I suppose it's easier to make someone fall in love with you if you offer them a setting that's like home."

"_What?_"

Lee is still rigid against her. Whether he's angry or disturbed or both, she can't tell.

"From the second I met that skin job he wouldn't shut up about me. Kept saying I had some kind of special destiny and that he was going to show me the way to it. Apparently on New Caprica that meant I had to return his frakked-up version of love. Frakking crazy godsdamned stalker was how I saw things." She lets out a mirthless laugh. "So I'd kill him. I'd wait until he wasn't looking and I'd sneak up behind him and kill him. Then he'd resurrect and come back a few hours later and it was like nothing had happened. Eventually the son of a bitch learned I couldn't be trusted with a weapon, and took all the knives and hid them. So I had to get creative."

Lee has started stroking her hair, but she doesn't notice.

"I remember one night I was setting the table and I picked up a fork and wondered if it would go through human flesh, inflict enough damage to kill. Eventually I used a chopstick, a metal one. Went right through his neck. I wiped the blood off my hands and sat back down at the table and finished my supper with his body bleeding out on the floor beside me." Kara pauses, recalling her next thoughts. "It was the ninth time I'd killed him. I wondered if he was like a cat, if he only had nine lives. Of course I was wrong. Later that night the door opened and the frakker'd come right back for number ten."

There's a sharp intake of breath from beside her. "Did that skin job ever –"

"No. Not once." She cuts Lee off before he can complete the sentence because the very thought makes her go cold. "He didn't want that from me. He wanted me to say I loved him. Evidently in his mind I despised him enough without rape being added to the picture."

Lee kisses her forehead, strong and firm, and somehow that helps her continue. That and the medications are finally seeping into her system, giving her a pleasant feeling of lightheadedness. The earlier pain has mercifully vanished.

She needs that, needs it for the part of the story that follows.

"The next day, Leoben left for a few hours. When he came back, he had a little – a little girl in his arms. A little two-year-old baby." Kara closes her eyes, remembering Kacey's blond curls, her hazel eyes, the sound of her laughter. "He said – he said she was mine. A half-human like Helo's kid. When I was on Caprica at that Farm, they took one of my ovaries. And Leoben said this girl was my daughter. My daughter, by him."

"I remember Dad mentioning you had a child with you when you came back," Lee says softly. He's being careful, and Kara hates it.

"It was a lie, Lee!" she bursts out, and he looks stricken. "It was all a godsdamned lie. Another one of his mindfraks. I brought her back to _Galactica_, I went back to that frakking apartment with the bombs falling all around me on New Caprica just to get her. And five minutes after I'd landed her mother appeared, her real mother. She thanked me for saving her daughter's life, took her back … and that was it." Kara gazes defiantly into Lee's eyes. "So that is what happened to me on New Caprica. Aren't you glad to know? Isn't it a comfort to realize how frakking gullible I can be?"

She's putting up the armour again but she doesn't care.

Lee knows her so well that he doesn't even try to break through.

He simply wraps her tighter in his arms, tight like the day in the shower when he caught her and she realized everything was going to be okay. He rubs his hand in concentric circles over her back and pulls up the extra blanket at the end of the rack, cocooning them both. Lee kisses her softly and she pillows her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. With each successive _thump_ Kara lets the pills take over, breathing deeply and leaving behind the pain, her hands, New Caprica, the Cylons, her mother.

She sleeps without dreams, safe in his arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Kara wonders again if they really can coexist, if Starbuck and Apollo and Kara and Lee can be together without killing each other.

Half of Kara hopes he'll still be there, that they'll have held the exact same position, when she wakes up.

Of course the other half recognizes how foolish an assumption that is. Lee is still _Galactica_'s CAG, and he still has CAPs to run and flight schedules to write and maintenance to perform and briefings to give and gods only know how many other tasks jostling for his attention. In fact, she has no idea how he's been able to do all this _and_ find time to devote to her since she was injured. Lee's a good time manager, but she didn't think anyone was _that_ good.

Still, it's a disappointment when she returns to consciousness and doesn't feel his reassuring warmth next to her. Kara cracks open her eyes, feeling the foggy remnants of the drugs in her system, and gazes around the otherwise empty rack. The rest of the bunkroom and the head beyond are quiet, although she can hear feet shuffling past the outside hatch and the soft murmur of voices.

Then she sees something distinctly out of place. A note, taped to the wall directly in front of her. She moves closer, breathing in the scent of Lee remaining on the pillow and feeling like an idiot for so doing. The paper's obviously been torn out of some notebook or other, and his handwriting, so neat and tidy, swims before her eyes.

_Kara,_

Got an early CAP and then a flight briefing, so I'll be gone most of the morning. Have arranged for Cottle's nurse to come give you the next dose of meds. Dad said he might visit this morning too. I should be back around 1300.

I love you.

Lee

Kara bites her lip. Not one word about last night, but then she supposes actions speak louder anyway. He hadn't made her feel embarrassed, hadn't commented on how weak and cowardly it was for her not to take more permanent measures in defeating Leoben. She'd resisted telling Lee, telling anyone, because she was ashamed of the way she had allowed herself to be manipulated and of how weak and powerless the incident made her appear. _Weak_ and _powerless_ are not words that suit Starbuck, or Kara either for that matter. Yet she has to admit that in the last couple of weeks, they are exactly what she has been.

It hasn't mattered to Lee.

Would it matter to anyone, really?

She decides, in the end, that she can't afford to take that risk. She could only tell Lee because she loves him and, she is fairly certain, nothing would shock him after two weeks of caring for her. Her story might anger him, might prompt him to make sure that any Cylons showing up during CAP will suffer unusually nasty deaths, but somehow her gut tells her that it won't drive him away. And it's a rare occasion when Starbuck's gut instinct is incorrect.

Kara shifts uncomfortably, wondering what time it is and wishing she could see the clock on the shelf above Lee's rack. Why do they put the clocks on those shelves anyway? Couldn't they install them somewhere actually halfway-useful, such as on the bottom of the top bunk? Then again, maybe it's better she can't see the clock. She doesn't want to become a slave to its numbers, waiting like some pathetic war wife for them to click to 1300.

She glances back at the note taped to the wall. _Dad said he might visit this morning too._

The Old Man had come to see her several times in sickbay, but Kara can't remember being lucid enough to speak with him at any length. She assumes Adama knows what happened from Lee's report, and that this is why he hasn't questioned her about the events on the algae planet. It's just as well; she really has no desire to talk about those anyway. Contemplation of the devotion Lee has shown her is all well and good in private, but some things are just too personal to share.

Through the half-open curtain Kara spots the hatch's wheel spinning and has a furious argument with herself over whether she should pretend to be asleep. It might be beneficial if the person entering is one of her nuggets or a fellow pilot. They'll want to talk, ask her how she's _feeling_. But what if it's the nurse, or the admiral, or Lee? In the end she compromises, keeping her eyes at half mast until she can discern who it is.

She's partially right. Ishay steps over the threshold, and Adama Senior is right behind her.

Well, this is going to be embarrassing.

Mercifully the admiral stays in the background while Ishay performs her quick examination and administers the medications. Kara, all too mindful of her commander's presence, does her best not to wince or cry out as the nurse probes the bandages, but it's a close thing. She hates that her hands are still so painful, but feels relieved when Ishay informs her that the burns are healing and that rehabilitation will be possible within a few days. Kara certainly isn't looking forward to that, but at least it will be an opportunity to do something other than lie in her rack all day.

And odds are, Lee will insist on being with her. That thought alone brings a small smile to her face as Ishay departs.

"Starbuck."

Adama's voice brings her sharply back to reality. He's sat carefully down at the end of the bunk and is scrutinizing her with one of his penetrating looks.

Kara attempts a wider smile, and a salute. "Sir."

"At ease." The admiral smiles as well, and it's the kind of smile they used to share, as father and surrogate daughter, before New Caprica drove them apart. "How have you been, Kara?"

She considers. "Itching to get back into a Viper, for one thing. Being flat on your back in a rack doesn't have much to recommend it."

He chuckles. "Tell me something I don't know. I gather Lee's been spending a lot of time with you."

Trust Adama to get right to the point. He's very like his son in that way, Kara thinks. She decides to be at least partly honest. "I'm surprised he's managed to fit it into his schedule, actually. We're all pretty busy these days; the last thing we need is an extra distraction."

"I don't think he regards you as just a distraction," the admiral says softly. "He's been acting differently since the crash. More driven than I've seen him in months, and yet more caring at the same time. It's a nice change."

"Change, sir? With respect, he's been that way as long as I've known him."

Adama shakes his head. "You didn't see Lee when he had command of the _Pegasus_. It got to a point where nobody knew who he was anymore. Not even Lee himself. The months we orbited New Caprica he was a stranger."

Guilt overtakes her, quickly and insidiously. Kara knows that at least part of Lee's detachment must have had to do with her behaviour on New Caprica – in fact, all things considered, it continues to surprise her that they're still on speaking terms. The Dance helped, but it was not everything.

Of course, she can't tell his father that.

"None of us were the same after New Caprica," Kara says instead. "We all came back with scars."

"So say we all." His gaze falls on her hands, wrapped as always and lying on the blankets between them. "Speaking of scars, how are the hands? It must be hard to manage without them."

There it is. The question she'd hoped to avoid.

"Getting better all the time. They still hurt, but Cottle says I can start rehab in a few days." Give him a pat answer, an answer that's the truth without revealing too much.

"That's good news." Adama shifts and she realizes he's getting ready to ask another personal question. "Does Cottle have nurses on rotation, to help you? I'm not trying to pry, I just want to make sure you're being taken care of." He pats her knee in what Kara suddenly understands to be a gesture of fatherly love.

Frak, she's forgotten what that's like. If she ever knew in the first place.

Now she has to figure out how to answer him.

"Actually, no, Cottle hasn't been handling that …"

Her voice trails as the hatch clanks once more, signaling the entrance of another person into their midst. Kara wonders again what she should do, how it will look to an outsider, her meeting with the Admiral like this, but she has no time to contemplate it because the hatch is swinging open.

It's Lee.

She knows her expression has changed, knows that there's been a palpable shift in her demeanor, just by the way the elder Adama reacts. He's suddenly very curiously watching the dynamic between them: the way Kara's smile has widened (and not artificially so), the look of longing Lee shoots towards the bed (without even realizing his father is present). The fact that Lee is halfway across the room before he notices the presence of a senior officer, and smartly snaps to attention just a moment later than he would have ordinarily.

"Sir." Lee quickly salutes. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"At ease, Major." Adama stands. "I should be on my way in any case. Tigh asked me to tell you that he would like the new flight schedules on his desk to initial as soon as possible."

Lee nods, edging closer to Kara at the same time and trying to look unobtrusive about it. "Understood. I'll start on those in a few minutes, I just have – something else to take care of, first."

"Something that's more important than flight schedules?" The Admiral arches an eyebrow, but Kara can see a twinkle in his eye.

"Sir, remember when I told you Cottle isn't handling my post-sickbay care?" she interjects.

"Yes?"

Kara glances unabashedly towards Lee, who is blushing but smiling, crouched next to her. "I made other arrangements," she says simply.

Adama looks first at her, then at his son stroking her arm. "I see."

As he leaves the bunkroom, Kara tries to remember when she last saw him wearing that wide of a smile.

It's been awhile.

***

"Narcho and … Racetrack." Lee's pencil scratches furiously across the page.

"No no no, who the frak do you think you're kidding?" Kara plunks her arm down to block him, careful to keep her hand out of the way.

"And what, may I ask, is wrong with putting Narcho and Racetrack together?"

"They hate each other, you dipstick."

"Why haven't I noticed this? I'm the CAG." He glances at her imperiously.

"And I'm their flight instructor, and I say it won't work. Put Racetrack with Skulls. Helo and I always pair them in Raptors."

"Sometimes I think _you_ should be writing these flight schedules," Lee mutters as he flips his pencil over and begins to erase the neat lines of handwriting.

"Look, Ma, no hands." Kara waves a bandaged hand in his face. "Anyway, I thought that was _your_ job, Mr. CAG."

"Excuses, excuses." He writes in the change and drapes an arm around her shoulders, depositing a kiss on the top of her head. "Ah well, it's nice to know you're feeling better enough to torment me."

"I beg to differ; this is education, not torment," Kara shoots back, but she knows exactly what he means. Since the crash she's spent most of her days and nights either sleeping or in pain, and not in any mood to engage in one of her usual verbal sparring matches with Lee. She still doesn't feel even remotely like herself, and has in fact been struggling to stay awake for the last half hour, but she's missed this side of their relationship far too much to pass up the opportunity to slip back into her Starbuck persona, foil to his Apollo.

She leans in closer and pillows her head against his shoulder, gazing down at the next line of the flight schedule. Lee in turn rests his cheek against her head, and she feels his next question rumble through her.

"Okay, so, if you're so smart, who should I put Narcho with?"

"Mmm … Skids, maybe, if you're feeling brave enough to take Hotdog."

"Low blow, Kara. We've never questioned my bravery when it comes to Hotdog."

She digs her elbow into his ribs. "Speak for yourself."

Lee tiptoes two fingers up her ribs, causing her to squirm and laugh. "I should challenge you to a tickle fight, just for that," he muses.

"Wouldn't be fair, Lee," Kara gasps as his fingers find her other side. "I can't, remember?"

Instantly she recognizes the glint in his eye. "Who ever said anything about fair?"

"Lee Adama, you _wouldn't_," she barks in her most threatening Starbuck tone, but he's not listening.

The flight schedule lies abandoned as he climbs astride her and attacks, furiously palming her sides and ribs and – _oh gods, not the stomach_, Kara thinks moments before Lee finds it and she howls with laughter, trying in vain to wriggle free of his grip. He's got her pinned, though, and without the use of her hands she has no hope of being able to free herself.

She figures she has only one out, and the chances of even that working are slim at best. One leg out from underneath him, then the other, and she can barely draw breath for laughing so hard, and then suddenly she's clasping her legs on top of him and pressing down.

The effect is priceless. One moment Lee's eyes are full of barely-disguised mirth and the next, his mouth forms a perfect O as he loses his balance and topples onto her. Kara has just enough time to jerk her hands out of the way before his head comes down on her chest. It's an exact repetition of the first time she used that out.

"Hi, Lee," Kara gasps as before.

He looks up at her with such a perfect goofy grin that she wants to bottle it and take it out and look at it whenever her world collapses. "What, was that supposed to be my punishment or something?"

She mirrors his smile. "Nope, that was just making you stop. Your punishment's coming later."

"I'll look forward to it." Lee makes a show of settling in against her breasts. "Mmm, it's comfy here."

Kara ruffles her arm through his hair. "You _are_ a pervert, pervert."

But she likes having him there, likes feeling him against her. And this is just what they do, the bickering and the quipping and the wisecracks. It's what they've always done. Starbuck-and-Apollo, Apollo-and-Starbuck. Only recently have they been able to transition to Kara and Lee, the people they really are. She hates that she doesn't have her hands, that she was forced to open herself to him by that injury. (Even though she also knows that she'd never have done it of her own accord. Perhaps the gods have a sense of humour?) All of that came with letting go, and Kara admits that at least a small part of her is tired of running. Tired of not being able to let go.

Just plain tired.

Those thoughts communicate themselves to her physical body and she yawns, a jaw-cracking exhausted yawn. And suddenly Lee slips beneath the surface of his new role, almost without a ripple, rolling off of her and pulling the blankets gently up to her neck. And Kara wonders again if they really can coexist, if Starbuck and Apollo and Kara and Lee can be together without killing each other.

She's starting to believe it.

One by one, the walls fall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sits up slightly and opens her mouth, wanting to believe she's doing the right thing and wishing it was over, all of it, this frakked-up existence without hands. Wishing things could just go back to the way they used to be. But then she and Lee probably would not be so close, would not be connected in such an intimate way by bonds of mutual trust.

Day one of rehabilitation.

Kara's made up her mind not to go. She knows she needs it, but she also knows she's making progress on her own, more progress in the last three days than has been made in as many weeks. Less morpha, less exhaustion, the ability to walk around the bunkroom without help and – the fact she's most proud of – she was able to rest her hands on Lee's back last night as they frakked, and while her palms still stung, it felt so wonderful to be able to _touch_ something, some_one_, someone who had given her so much since the crash and to whom she'd been able to return so little. She's never before thought in those terms, never regarded their relationship as a give-and-take situation.

So much has changed. So frakking much.

Why should she give up that progress? Why should she open herself to yet more pain?

Kara turns on her side, relaxing for a nap. Then the hatch opens.

"Hey, don't you have somewhere you need to be?"

"Frak you," she says without even turning.

"Yeah, once you get your hands back I'm sure we'll end up doing a lot of that. But this is the only way you'll be certified to fly again, don't forget."

Lee's right at the bunk now, but still Kara doesn't turn.

"I thought you had CAP, asshole."

"Nope, Racetrack took the lead. I know you, Kara. I know you weren't planning on turning up. Why? Are you afraid?"

And then she's up, propped on her elbows, glare firmly in place. Of course he knew that would get her.

Lee doesn't flinch. "Touched a nerve there, didn't I? Come on, Starbuck. Feet on the floor. We're going."

"Clever, Apollo. That's so very frakking clever. Give yourself a godsdamned medal." Kara stays put.

His eyes glitter with amusement. "You _are_ afraid, aren't you? Afraid because deep down, you're tired of fighting this. You're sick of pain, you're sick of being hurt like this, so you figure the best way to avoid it is to hunker down right here in the bunkroom, schedule your therapy time for when you know Apollo has patrol and won't be there to drag your ass out of your rack. Sorry, it doesn't quite work like that. Thanks for playing, though."

Kara isn't aware of going from sitting to standing, all in one fluid motion, but she does, and of course she stumbles. Pushes against him but he pushes back. "Gods _damn_ you!" she hurls at Lee, who, most infuriatingly, continues to smile.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe they will. But hey, now you're up, why don't we get going? Prove me wrong, prove you're not afraid to do this. I know you want to get back up there, Kara. Prove it."

She's moving to the door, and he's with her, and it stays that way until they reach sickbay. No one dares to glance at her in the halls, not even Hotdog – they're all scared off by the look on her face. That's how she likes it. That's how they have always treated her when she's in one of her moods and now Kara could not be more grateful.

In sickbay she discovers that her pride is still intact.

Part of her would like nothing more than to complain about the mundane nature of the tasks Ishay sets her. Flexing and extending her fingers, making a fist, stretching each digit out separately, picking tiny toothpicks out of what looks like children's modeling clay. It's exceedingly boring, or it would be if it wasn't also so painful. Her hands have been trapped for three weeks in bandages, largely immobile. Returning them to their former flexibility is going to be hard frakking work. Hard frakking work full of pain, pain that she thought was over and done with.

Kara doesn't complain. She doesn't wince. She doesn't do either of those things because Lee sits with her the whole time and she is just angry enough with him not to want to open up. She's built her walls again and he at least has enough sense not to try and break them down right there in sickbay.

Instead he waits until they're back in the bunkroom.

She isn't too sure how she got there; only that putting one foot in front of the other and concentrating on not falling over or throwing up kept her from focusing on her hands. All she wants to do is sleep, sleep and forget that tomorrow she's got to do this all over again.

Kara lurches through the hatch, stumbling over the little step and nearly pitching to the floor. Lee, ever alert, holds her carefully around her waist until she's regained her balance. The few pilots enjoying rack time look up curiously, and then quickly back down as they see precisely what's going on. She doesn't care, wouldn't care in fact if they all started laughing at her, though that would be grounds for a major ass-kicking later and they all know it. Right now there are three words and three words only lodged in her brain. Get – to – rack.

She does, and decides not to bother with the effort required to climb in properly. Gravity takes over and she's down, legs hanging over the side, eyes shut and willing her stomach to stop spinning. Another part of her chanting _This is frakking ridiculous, it's only rehab, you weakling._

And he's there.

Lee's there, talking to Seelix who's come over to ask if Kara's all right, if there's anything she can do. Lee's there, tucking Kara's legs into the rack and climbing in next to her and pulling the curtain. She senses all of this through closed eyelids, as much as she senses his touch on her cheek.

"Kara. Hey."

"Frak off," she whispers. She's angry at the entire universe, but since it's pointless to rail against the stars, Lee will make a convenient substitute.

He's not perturbed. "Ishay told me to give you these, they'll help with the pain. You're to take them before tomorrow's session too."

Kara chances to open one eye. Lee holds out two pills – morpha pills, almost the same amount of morpha she just weaned herself off of.

"No. No no no." She shakes her head, turns away.

"Kara, be realistic, you need these, you can hardly stand up –"

"I'm _better_, Lee." It's a supreme effort to strengthen her voice, but somehow she manages it. "I frakking hate those and I don't need them!"

"What the hell are you talking about, I just gave you some four hours ago …" His voice trails. "You haven't been taking the medication, have you."

Kara stares back defiantly. She's paying for that now, but so be it. How else is she going to get back what she had before?

"Where is it, Kara?" Lee looks angry now. "Where the frak did you put it?"

"What's it to you, Lee, really." She gazes up at the bunk's roof. Maybe if she focuses on a fixed point the nausea will vanish. "It's my life. My frakking body. And if I don't like morpha and decide to start spitting it out 'cause I'm sick of being a frakking _patient_, it's none of your godsdamned business."

"I beg to differ." His face is inches from hers, eyes dark and dangerous. "Don't you think this is hard for me too? Don't you think the last three weeks have been five kinds of hell? I haven't complained and I never will because I frakking love you. But you won't show yourself any respect, godsdamnit. Well guess what, this is a long frakking road. I've rearranged my schedule and switched patrols around and I'll keep doing that. But if you're going to act like this, delay your recovery because of some frakking martyr complex, forget it. I can't take it, Kara, I can't watch you do this to yourself."

"Lee …"

But she can't think of any words to refute his statements, not now, not when eight hours without her usual morpha dosage is making her gag and when there are so many feelings coursing through her that if she had an eternity to catalogue them all she might just scratch the surface. Kara purses her lips, not wanting to give in, understanding that this is another in a long line of struggles between Starbuck and Apollo, between Kara and Lee, that will make her rebuilt walls crumble.

_Won't cry_.

It's a losing battle.

She lost it before she even began.

Kara turns away, but Lee sees the tear tracks on her face anyway. As she knew he would.

"Come on." His voice is softer now, gentler as he brushes her tears away. "Take them, Kara."

Lee holds out the pills.

She sits up slightly and opens her mouth, wanting to believe she's doing the right thing and wishing it was over, all of it, this frakked-up existence without hands. Wishing things could just go back to the way they used to be. But then she and Lee probably would not be so close, would not be connected in such an intimate way by bonds of mutual trust.

As Lee holds a water glass to her lips, Kara reflects that if the Lords of Kobol do exist, they're probably laughing their asses off right now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have been her lifeline. For a month she would not have eaten, drunk, dressed, used the head, washed, _existed_ without those hands.

She sleeps entwined with him as before, smiling as she feels his fingers combing through her hair. Kara's deeply asleep by the time Lee leaves for his shift, and she doesn't wake until two hours after he returns.

"Welcome back," Lee breathes in her ear.

Kara stretches languidly, shifting her hands so they're more comfortable. "That was old the first five hundred times you said it."

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"I dunno." She turns to face him. "Don't you have patrol, Mr. CAG?"

Lee trails a hand from her breast down to her stomach. "You didn't notice me getting up and going?"

"Nope," Kara yawns. "You must've knocked me out good."

"Good," he echoes with a smile. His fingers are still moving, making the circuit from her navel, up her belly, around one breast and over the other. She follows them with a smile slowly beginning to form on her face.

"Someone's in a mood."

"Maybe." Lee presses a kiss to her neck. "I seem to recall we had a bargain, after all."

"Lee, I'm sorry."

The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, before she can even begin to contemplate why she's saying them or what effect they will have. Even more, she finds herself continuing.

"It's just … that's what I do. I'm a frakking screw-up. You ought to know that by now. My whole godsdamned life is about waiting for the next time when the gods are gonna frak with me. And they always do. So sometimes I think I can't wait, I've got to do it before they start screwing around with me. Or with the people I love. There's maybe a few minutes where I think I've got it made and then reality comes right back, and then forget it. And you were right." She bites her lip. "You were right when you said you shouldn't have to go through that. You were right when you said you should walk away. Because you should. There is no reason for you to keep doing this, because lords know I'll probably find some creative way of frakking it up too. I almost did, right? I mean, you were ready to walk out that godsdamned door. You should have. You should have."

"Hold on." His eyes are wide as saucers, and Kara thinks there's the beginning of a smile at the sides of his lips. "You're actually saying I was right about something? _You_ are admitting _I_ was right?"

"Lee, this is serious." But she can feel a grin spreading unwillingly across her own face.

"Okay, wait. Wait, let me just record this for posterity." Lee slaps his pockets and comes up with a pad of notepaper. He jots the date and time and then narrates, tongue poking between his teeth: "Starbuck … said … Apollo … was …"

"All right, all right, all right. Ha ha. You got what you wanted, hotshot. Now can we talk?" Kara nudges him in the ribs.

"Hey, you messed up my evidence!" he complains as his hand jerks over the page, leaving a pencil trail.

She sighs in mock frustration. "Just for that you're not getting laid, you frakker."

"Frak you," Lee snickers.

"Not today, buster." Kara turns away, willing herself not to burst out laughing.

"Godsdamnit, you're serious." There's the sound of paper tearing, and then Lee's pleading voice in her ear. "I take it back. I'll be serious now, I promise."

"No takebacks, Lee."

"Come on, Kara, a guy has needs." He molds himself to her in demonstration, and she can indeed feel a bulge pressing her back.

"I said no takebacks." She turns just long enough to poke the tip of her tongue out at him, then whips her head back.

"Brat."

That does it. Suddenly Kara's cracking up, trying to be silent because she's not sure how many people are in the bunks around her, but her shoulders are shaking with laughter and that sets Lee off, and suddenly it _is_ like old times. Suddenly, crazily, she has her wish, and they're in each other's arms laughing. Starbuck and Apollo. Kara and Lee.

Again.

"I know you were serious before," Lee says when they're finally able to stop. "And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have made fun. And I shouldn't have gotten angry earlier. I spent most of CAP upset at myself, when I wasn't watching out for Cylons."

"Well, that's sort of our thing, isn't it?" Awkwardly she flips onto her back and turns to regard him. "It's always been our thing. Calling each other on our collective bullshit."

"I guess so." He contemplates the bunk's roof for a few moments, brow crinkled. "But it's different now. Now we're … well, _us_."

Kara leans in closer. "Yeah. Now we're us." She tries not to feel frightened at the prospect, and discovers that restraining her fear seems to require no effort at all.

Lee meets her halfway, kissing her forehead slowly and sensually. "I'm sorry all the same."

"So am I, Lee. Really." She discovers that she means it, and means it for everything. Her behaviour of hours previous, running until she had no choice but to surrender to him three weeks before the crash, the dance, New Caprica, Sam, all the times she'd led him on and then run, the thing with Baltar …

Gaius frakkin' Baltar. Kara shivers involuntarily and Lee presses closer, his fingers threading through her hair and gentle breath ghosting across her skin. It soothes her somehow, as does his subsequent touch on her cheek.

"We had a bargain, Kara," he rumbles directly in her ear.

That draws a real smile, and a laugh. "We did, didn't we." She pretends to hold out one of her hands. "Pills first, pervert. I'm more fun when I'm high."

Lee rises without another word, opens the curtain and clambers over her. She gets a brief view of the empty bunkroom as he stands unscrewing the pill bottles, and Kara smiles more widely. Better they have privacy for what she's about to suggest. Otherwise he'll never go for it.

"Dog the hatch, Lee," she grins.

He snickers. "I never pegged you for shy."

"No, _you're_ the one who's shy. Or you will be anyway."

"Forget shy, I'm frakking intrigued."

Kara waits until he's back in the rack with her, until the pills and water are swallowed and Lee's removing her bra and pushing his fingers underneath her sweatpants. She smiles and turns towards him.

"You're still not getting laid, Apollo. Hope you realize that."

The surprise on his face is almost comical.

"Go ahead. Get off," she continues, her eyes finding his crotch. "I'd help you out, but …" Kara waves her bandaged hands in his face. "Besides, the rest of me is at your disposal. You just can't come inside." The double meaning pleases her.

Lee looks as if he can't decide whether to kiss her or smack her. There's something simmering in his eyes, something close to arousal. "I tore it up," he whispers, voice low and husky. That's when she knows she's got him. "The evidence. I tore it up. I swear, Kara."

"But you still wrote it," she says smugly.

"Yeah. I still wrote it."

There's that flicker again, his irises darkening perceptibly this time. Kara watches as he shrugs out of his tanks and lies back down. His gaze fixes on her and travels downwards until he's staring at her chest, fully and unabashedly. For a moment she feels embarrassed, but it's only a moment, for next second he reaches out and cups a breast gently, hesitantly. She smiles and briefly closes her eyes, delighting in the heat spreading from his touch.

When she opens them again Lee is tracing light concentric circles around her nipple with his thumb, apparently fascinated. It's the action of his other hand that interests her more, however. He's moving in a trail down his belly, past his navel, following the dark line of hair that disappears into his pants. He dips his hand into the tent at his crotch and a long shuddery sigh slips from his lips as he frees himself.

_Worth the price of admission just to see this_, Kara thinks to herself. Yes, she'll regret not feeling his climax, not being able to delight in the warmth and the wet as he spills inside her. But there will be other times. And the sight of Lee stroking himself, fingers working up and down his shaft while his other hand explores her breast, is more than enough to spread liquid heat between her legs.

She presses her chest into his touch and is rewarded with a solid groan as he squeezes himself, hard. He moves from one nipple to the other, massaging, pinching, holding until both are pebbly peaks and Kara's moaning too. Both dart forward and Lee captures her lips in a desperate kiss. Against him now she can feel the slow, steady motion of his hand. She opens her mouth slightly and nibbles along his bottom lip, licking to soothe the bite marks. He pinches her nipple each time she bites, setting up a delicious bite-pinch bite-pinch rhythm that has them both on edge. Kara thinks if he doesn't move his hand, if he doesn't start touching her where she's well and truly wet and ready, she might die.

'Kara," Lee whispers, and again, and he's speeding up now and the tiniest part of her is beginning to regret this experiment, but next moment his hand is indeed trailing down, down to her navel and all is forgotten as he dips beneath her pants, finds her clit. And then she's not sure if he or she is panting, "Godsgodsgodsgods …"

Maybe neither. Perhaps both.

She looks at the interplay of his hands, one down her pants, one fisted around his cock. Squeezing, prodding, massaging, both of them in their own universes and yet inextricably linked. She feels like she's not _doing_ anything, like she doesn't have a point, but the look in his eyes tells her otherwise. They are an entirely new shade of blue, one she was not aware existed. Focused entirely on her. They flick down and around, beating a staccato cycle – face-breasts-sweatpants-face – but always coming to rest on her face, on her eyes, and she is transparent before him. She can't decide if it's the fulfillment of her every dream or the realization of all her nightmares to be naked like this.

Perhaps it's neither. Maybe it's both.

Kara has been naked in front of Lee Adama since the crash.

So, possibly, none of this even matters.

His thumb seeks her clit once more, presses, and abruptly she decides she should stop overthinking things so frakking much.

They are both close. The air is thick between them with sweat and sex and rapid breathing. Lee's exhaling like he did when they used to run together, slow and deep, but now there's a desperate and shaky quality to it. Her eyes find his cock and take in the tiny drop of pre-come blotting the head, quickly disappearing into the accelerating rhythm of his strokes. He catches her watching and the look he shoots her is almost enough to make her arrive right there. Almost, but not quite.

And then he slips a finger inside her and it's over.

Instantly the word springs to her lips, the word that's always there whenever a climax is about to arrive. It's become as reliable an indicator to Kara as DRADIS contacts of Cylon attacks. Whether she says the word or not, it's always there. On the fringes. Like the heat in her belly.

She knows he wants to hear it.

So she whispers it, whispers it as she arches and slides down on his finger and clenches around him.

"_Lee_ …"

The word comes out in a gasp but she knows he understands.

She knows because he closes his eyes and bites his lip and squeezes and expedites the pace, and when he opens up again the look he gives her could burn a hole through steel. Lucky for the wall he's not turned the other way.

Kara leans in close to his ear as her climax winds down. "Come on, Lee." One hand, brought hesitantly up to his cheek, a light touch, firmer when the pain doesn't overwhelm her. Elation because, frak, she's _touching_ him. "Come for me."

Lee presses his forehead to hers, momentarily trapping her hand, but she doesn't care because his breath catches and he groans and groans again, and something a little warm and slippery flows onto her stomach. They close their eyes together. Melded against each other.

Seconds pass. Or maybe it's hours, or it might be minutes.

Finally he kisses her, and she smiles against his lips, and he says, "I see why you wanted me to dog the hatch."

His voice is still low, but there's a layer of contentment she's not sure has ever been present before.

"Yeah. I knew you'd be too much of a prude otherwise."

"Frak you."

"Hello, CIC paging Captain Obvious." She gestures to her belly, spattered with liquid. "I believe this is yours."

"Yeah. Sorry." Lee trails his hand over the spot, only succeeding in making a bigger mess. "But I'm not a prude, Kara."

"Says he who wouldn't even think of this until the hatch was triple-dogged."

"You didn't tell me what we were going to do, just said I should dog the hatch!"

"Yes, but I know you, Lee." Pertly Kara kisses his nose and trails her tongue down to his lips. "You were the one who was worried I'd announce to the whole ship we were frakking."

"There's something called _privacy_, Kara," Lee says witheringly, though he returns her lick. "Maybe you've heard of it."

She snorts, loudly and indelicately. "On a _battlestar?_ Gods, give me that Picon weed you're smoking, Apollo. I want some."

"Okay, you know what, never mind." He surrenders to a chuckle. "I think I'll just give up arguing with you. I can never win."

"You catch on pretty quick for someone stoned off his ass."

He smacks her, and she supposes she deserved that, so she says nothing. Just laughs, and enjoys the morpha seeping into her system and the freedom from pain allowing her to caress his cheek. This time Lee notices.

"You're touching again," he whispers, and there's something like awe in his voice.

"The pills help," Kara says, and it's not exactly a lie.

"Before you couldn't stand it even _with_ the meds," Lee points out.

She can't do anything but nod as his hand comes up and carefully closes around hers, his eyes watching her for any signal or hint of discomfort. The rehab bandages are less bulky and she watches her hand disappear in his. Watches as he squeezes lightly, and although the friction of bandage against palm is a little too much just yet, she doesn't wince when pain knifes up her arm.

He has beautiful hands. She remembers thinking that but being too angry and in too much pain to further reflect on the point.

They are pale. Lightly freckled. But they have a kind of quiet dignity. A musician's grace, her father would have said. These hands have caressed her. They have hit her. They have gestured incredulously in her direction. The thumbs have massaged her nipples and her clit. The fingers have been smashed, bruised, cut by combat landings. They have been drenched in the blood of the man who fathered him. They have aimed guns, pulled triggers, killed Cylon and human alike.

They have been her lifeline. For a month she would not have eaten, drunk, dressed, used the head, washed, _existed_ without those hands. They have touched her in the most intimate of places for the least intimate of reasons. He has given them to her, given them out of love.

Lee holds her bandaged digits. Kisses them.

The sound of one hand clapping becomes two.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four weeks following, Helo shows her a supernova's scan, and everything falls to pieces.

One day following Kara's latest encounter with Lee, Ishay gives her splints to wear. Kara obeys because she wants her hands back, wants her _life_ back, wants to really touch Lee, wants to be restored to flight status and feel the G-forces pressing her into her seat. She wants to do barrel rolls and shoot Raiders and laugh across the comm. She wants to be Starbuck again, and that night in his arms she dreams of flight.

One week following, the bandages come off. Kara still needs to be careful, but it feels like she's free again, like she's been released from a sort of prison. She runs back to the bunkroom and drinks a glass of water and uses the head and showers and by the time Lee comes in from patrol she is leaning against the side of her rack spooning algae with her Starbuck grin firmly in place. And she runs up to him and kisses him and drifts her fingers through his hair, not caring that the rest of the pilots are standing behind him and especially not when he deepens the kiss.

Two weeks following, they frak again. Her hands are healed fully now, and she can finally be as impulsive as she's been before. Kara surprises Lee in the shower, darting into the head with only a towel around her middle and wrenching aside the door. The look on his face is worth it, shifting from abject shock to open arousal to desperate desire as she pins him up against the wall with a series of kisses. And he whispers, "Welcome back" as he slides inside and she knows exactly what he means. _Welcome back to being you_.

Three weeks following, her flight status is restored. Thriving on freedom and the knowledge that _Oh gods, I'm not going to frak it up this time_ is wonderful, but there's one crucial part of her life that's missing, and that's the part she lives inside her Viper. Sitting in the launch tube waiting feels like returning from the dead, and hearing Apollo's voice on comm as she loops around him feels like that first heady breath of air. And they're both laughing, they're all laughing, Hotdog and Racetrack and Helo and Lee and Kara, and Dee asks what's so funny and no one can tell her. Something just seems … complete.

Four weeks following, Helo shows her a supernova's scan, and everything falls to pieces.

***

Afterwards Lee wonders if he should have seen it coming. He knows that Kara walks an unusual path. He's seen that her life is a series of trials and that times when she's calm, okay, happy are merely punctuation marks. But this time he was fooled. This time she seemed to have recovered, to have accepted that she could have love and be content and most importantly, that she _deserved_ those things. She'd done all she could to push him away but this time, he was having none of it. And this time it finally felt as though he might have won, might have conquered the foul spirit inside her.

He sits in the screening room and watches. Over and over, he watches as she flies into the cloud. He watches as he follows. He hears the desperation in his own voice as he calls for her, over and over, much as she called for him in her nightmares. He sees himself spot her – _too far too far too far_ his mind sings – and she turns to him and there's a look of perfect contentment on her face and those words, those words that he hears in nightmares and in the daytime when he wakes in the empty rack.

"_Let me go. Just let me go._"

And the explosion.

Lee sees it every time he closes his eyes. It plays on the ceiling of the rack that still smells like her. It hovers on the fringes of his dreams. But he keeps watching it, keeps loading the gun camera film into the projection machine because maybe if he watches it _just one more time_ he can find a reason why. Just one more. _Just … one … more_.

He is eventually forced to conclude that there is no answer.

He wants there to be. But there isn't.

There just … isn't.

More than once his father calls Lee into his office. The elder Adama seems to understand – perhaps even more than his son – that the time Lee spent with Kara while she was recovering from her injuries changed something about their relationship. But of course, his father can offer no further solace. Lee knows Dad's grieving as much as he is. But neither of them show it, because this is what Adama men do. They conceal. They hold in.

Lee stops watching the footage. It's just too frakking painful now.

Instead he sits in his rack, no, in the rack they _shared_, clutching her picture. Helo wants him to put it up on the memorial wall, but he can't. As long as he's got the picture he still has a small piece of _her_. He still has the woman he comforted, the woman whose hands he healed, the woman with whom he fought and frakked and laughed and who could be unbelievably tender and astoundingly abrasive all in one breath. He has a sense he changed her, that being completely dependent on him altered something fundamentally within her. That in his arms she learned to let go.

_Just let me go._

Maybe it was _too much_ freedom.

Lee works security for Baltar and helps to defend him and thinks of the irony were Kara there to see what he was doing. It's a distraction, anyway, and it's something to do besides fly CAP and give flight briefings and sit in his rack and stare at her picture when he's off-duty.

She's free. But he's more shackled than ever.

Shackled to her.

He _needs_ her.

Everyone tells him he should be proud of the speech he gave when called to the witness stand at the trial. They may not necessarily agree with the verdict – many are vehemently opposed, in fact – but they respect what Lee had to say. They congratulate him for it. They tell him he should be pleased with himself.

He accepts their accolades. He nods. He is polite.

Then he arrives at the bunkroom. Sits in his rack. Clutches her picture.

Cries.


End file.
